


Tumblr Tales

by Rumaan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluffy, Humour, Romance, Tropes, written on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:32:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 51
Words: 33,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumaan/pseuds/Rumaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of my Jon x Sansa ficlets written on tumblr for various prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for labonsoirfemme for the prompt: Jon x Sansa -- cooking/baking, ~*alone*~ or with others.

Sansa giggled as she turned from putting the tray of cupcakes into the oven and noticed the smudge of flour decorating Jon’s cheekbone.

“What?” he asked, looking self-conscious now the flurry of activity the baking had produced was over.

Sansa had been as shocked as anyone when Jon had volunteered to help her bake the last remaining goodies needed for Rickon’s birthday party tomorrow. None of her siblings had offered to help, all slinking out as she let out irritated sigh at their retreating backs.

Only Jon stayed in the kitchen, ignoring Robb’s raised eyebrows as he’d dug his hands in his pockets and quietly asked what she had needed help with.  
It was the first time Sansa had seen him in a few years and she had been surprised at the change. Gone was the skinny boy with the sad eyes who had been ever present at their house after his dad had died and his stepmother had moved back to Sicily, where her family lived. Jon had been placed in foster care but had ended up most nights at their place, his foster family not really caring what he did as long as they got their money from the Local Authority. 

Now, he stood a few inches taller than Robb and had filled out. She’d had trouble keeping her hands from wandering too close to his arms all evening. They looked impressive in the casually rolled up flannel shirt he wore. 

Whilst they had mixed the cake batter up, she had asked him why he had stayed around to help. He had shrugged and said he’d never baked before and she’d had to tamp down the pang of pity she had felt for the lonely little outcast of a boy he’d been.

“You’ve got flour on your face,” she said.

The flush in his cheeks already present thanks to the overwarm kitchen deepened and he rubbed at his cheek, somehow managing to miss the flour.

“Here,” she said, coming over with a tea towel and leaning up to brush it off. She teetered slightly, finding Jon to be even taller than he appeared. 

“Steady,” he said a little gruffly, putting his hand on her waist to steady her as her hands naturally landed on his shoulders.

“Thanks,” she said quietly and although she knew she should draw back, she found herself staring into his eyes. She had never noticed them before, but they were beautiful. A deep, dark grey framed with thick black eyelashes that always seemed unfair on a boy. 

Her eyes dropped to his lips and her breath hitched as he licked them. Unconsciously she moved closer, puckering her lips slightly before a blast of cold wind signalled the entry of someone into the kitchen and Jon pulled his head up, dropping his hands from her waist and rubbing at his neck.

“Don’t mind me,” Robb said with an edge in his tone as he took in how close they stood to each other. “Have you finished playing house with my _baby_ sister, yet?”

Sansa bristled at Robb’s tone, ready to snap back when Jon, ignoring Robb’s narrow eyed glare, looked at her and said, “Is there anything else you need help with, Sansa?”

“As a matter of fact, you could help me with the icing,” she replied, taking the excuse the grab his arm and feel if they were just as impressive as they looked. 

Robb huffed noisily and Sansa looked over her shoulder at her irritated brother and stuck her tongue out. 

She wasn’t ready to relinquish him just yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for jemmilou, the prompt was: Jon is the neighborhood watch leader and catches Sansa in a compromising position.

The sound of shoes scuffing against stone had his head whipping around and he peered into the darkened front garden of the house opposite.

As he eyes adjusted to the gloom of the shadowy garden, he saw the outline of someone clinging to a wisteria vine that looked as if it was about to pull away from the wall.  
Sighing and cursing his luck at coming across a potential burglary when all he wanted was to pass out on his bed. He also cursed Sam for the fifth time that night. He’d signed up to the Night’s Watch as a favour to Sam, who had come home to find his house ransacked and had decided to set up a Neighbourhood Watch scheme. Jon had tried to tell him the idea of a Neighbourhood Watch had died out years ago and besides, they had always been the domain of busybody, net curtain twitching old ladies, not a bunch of guys in their twenties.

“We’ll give it a different name, something cool,” Sam had said, before coming up with the Night’s Watch.

Jon had rolled his eyes but joined Sam, Pyp and Grenn out of loyalty more than anything.

Creeping forward, not keen to start a confrontation, Jon peeked around the hawthorn tree that spilled out onto the pavement. Before he could call out, there was a crash and scream and he darted forward, catching the surprisingly light would-be thief.

It was a her, he realised, as her legs wrapped around his waist and he found himself with a handful of pert bottom. Next door’s security light activated and he looked up into the prettiest face he’d seen in a long time. Big blue eyes shone out at him and he had the urge to brush back the stray tendril of auburn hair that was stuck to her cheek. He quickly dropped her down onto her feet.

“Are you a knight?” she asked, panting a little as she sought to catch her breath.

“No,” he said. “I’m part of the Night’s Watch.”

Jon mentally groaned at his instinctive answer as she giggled. “The what?”

“Never mind,” he said, determined not to sound anymore nerdy than his original answer had made him. “Are you attempting to break into this property?”

The laughter started up again. “No!” she said. “I’m house sitting for my brother, but I’ve managed to lock myself out.”

He looked up at the door then. “You’re Robb’s sister?” he asked, realising that they shared the same colouring.

“Yep. Sansa Stark,” she said, sticking her hand out for him to shake.

“Jon Snow,” he replied. “And I have a spare key for Robb. He gets me to feed Grey Wind sometimes. I’ll go fetch it for you.”

“Do you have coffee as well?” Sansa asked, with a little flirtatious look up that had him gulping.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: Jon Snow has one real fear. Bees. Sansa needs to remove the stinger, and distracts him

Sansa hadn’t imagined Jon being afraid of something as innocuous as a bee but there he was, pasty faced and shaking as he stared down at the bee sting that was currently residing in the pad of this tumb.

Theon and Robb were of no use, both just creasing up with laughter at the bearded young man sweating over a small insect sting.

“Here,” Sansa said, as she walked back through the French doors and onto the decking where they had been setting up for the first summer barbeque of the year. She had tweezers, warm water, cotton wool and antiseptic on a small tray that she calmly set down in the table.

“Give me your hand,” she said, ignoring the antics of her brother and his moronic friend.

“Sorry,” Jon said, embarrassment lacing his tone. “I just really don’t like bees.”

Sansa shrugged. “Everyone has phobias and they are rarely rational. I remember Robb screaming like a little baby over a spider in his bedroom. Oh, when was that, Robb? Ten days ago? Arya had to remove it for you.”

Her older brother stopped laughing and scowled at her. “When nurse Sansa has finished with you, come find us in the living room,” he said to Jon before stomping off.  
Sansa smiled as she took Jon’s hand, placing it palm up on the glass table. “I thought that would get rid of him.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, but Sansa could tell he was focused on the bee sting. His hand was shaking so hard that there was no way she would be able to remove the sting unless he was sufficiently distracted.

A gleam of mischief shone out of her eyes. She wasn’t blind and she saw the way both Theon and Jon looked at her when Robb wasn’t paying attention. She flipped her hair back behind shoulders and fanned her hand against her face.

“Wow, the sun is hot today,” she said, removing the cardigan she had been wearing buttoned up, leaving her in the matching vest.

It had the required result, Jon’s eyes tracked her movements, his hand no longer shaking as his attention focused on her. Unfortunately, she was the one suddenly feeling shivery, as his grey gaze skimmed across her newly bared skin, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake.

Focus, Sansa, she scolded herself and grabbed the tweezers, using his distraction to swiftly pull the sting out.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed before looking down at his hand. “Oh! It’s gone.”

“A bit like a plaster,” she said with a wink. “It hurts less if you do it quickly.”

He watched in silence as she washed the puncture with the warm water and dabbed a bit of Germolene on it.

“There,” Sansa said with a pat of his hand. “All done.”

She smiled as he flexed his thumb and said, “Thank you. You’re really good at this.”

“A lifetime of patching up my brothers. It’s not a normal day unless Rickon has bled from somewhere.”

That got a rare rumbling laugh from him as he rose. “I guess I better go and find Robb and Theon and get the teasing out of the way.”

“Uh-uh. Where’s my kiss thank you? Rickon and Bran always give me a thank you kiss,” she said teasingly, pointing to her cheek.

Jon ran a hand through his messy curls and dropped his eyes to her lips before leaning in to drop a chaste kiss on her cheek. In an impulsive move, Sansa moved her head so his lips met hers instead, causing him to momentarily freeze, before his hand cupped her cheek tenderly. His lips softened and parted, his tongue licking along the seam of her lips before she sighed into his mouth and threaded her hands through his hair.

A long while later, Theon came through the doors and said, “Jon? Have you fain-” before he trailed off, his mouth agape as Sansa scrambled off Jon’s lap, straightening her top, and blushing fiercely.

“ROBB!” Theon shouted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: jon/sansa - she gets very dressy for something and he is just completely FLOORED and flustered etc

"I’m not going with my brother, Robb! God, I’d look even more pathetic then." Jon heard Sansa yell before her bedroom door slammed. Robb’s despondent footsteps could be heard coming downstairs.

Jon fiddled with his watch uncomfortably as he sat in the Stark front room and tried to focus on the film that Bran and Rickon were intently watching, able to ignore all the drama happening upstairs for the flashes and bangs of the Harry Potter film.

"I don’t understand," Catelyn Stark said. "Why would Joffrey do this four hours before the prom is due to start?"

"Because he’s a little shit," Robb said darkly.

Jon had entered the Stark house just as the shitstorm was starting. He’d heard the cry from upstairs as he’d stepped through the front door, as well as the furious argument that had followed. Apparently Joffrey had decided he didn’t want to take Sansa to the Prom any more, but some girl called Margaery Tyrell.

"Says she’s not going now," Robb informed his parents.

Ned sat opposite Jon, a thoughtful expression on his face before he turned to Jon. “Robb, come here!” he called. “Get up, Jon, and stand back to back with Robb.”

Jon look at Robb, glad to see his friend looked as confused as he did, but did as Ned asked. The Stark patriarch had always been good to him, looking out for him when no one else had, and making sure he had someone he could turn to when life at the all-boys home had become tough.

"Hmm, slightly taller than Robb, but not enough that it will matter."

"Ned?" Catelyn had asked confused.

"I’m not letting that little shit ruin Sansa’s prom," Ned said, a grim expression on his face. "Especially not because his mother has decided she has some kind of vendetta against me. Sansa’s been looking forward to that dance ever since she saw our old pictures, Cat. She’s going and Jon can take her."

———

Jon stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Sansa to come down, and trying his hardest not to fidget with the tie. He wasn’t quite sure how this had happened, he hadn’t even attended his own prom. But Ned had asked him for this favour and he could not turn him down. Robb stood with the camera slung around his neck, waiting to take the photos, the biggest grin on his face.

"I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of jeans," he teased.

"Shut up!"

"Robb!" Catelyn scolded gently. She had not looked thrilled at the suggestion at first, but had soon come round to Ned’s idea. "Jon looks very dashing."  
"The grey matches your eyes," Robb said in a soulful tone earning a snigger from Arya.

Jon scowled but before he could send a scathing comment Robb’s way, Sansa’s footsteps could be heard above. His eyes rose to watch her come downstairs and he was glad everyone else was looking at her too as his mouth dropped open when he saw her.

She looked stunning. Oh, she had always been a pretty girl but somehow in the two years since he had last seen her she had turned into a beautiful woman, the purple dress clinging to her curves and accentuating her auburn hair.

He gulped as her eyes met his and she smiled a little shyly.

"Thank you, Jon," she said as she reached the bottom of the stairs and stood by his side.

"It’s my pleasure," he said, frowning slightly at how husky his voice sounded.

Robb started snapping the pictures then and Jon hoped some came out where he wasn’t just staring at Sansa, mouth agape.

Ned came out to give Sansa a hug and Jon heard him tell her in a low voice, “You forget about Joffrey. You’ll meet someone brave and gentle and strong and forget all about him.”

As Sansa kissed Ned on the cheek, her eyes met Jon’s and she smiled. “You’re right, daddy, I will.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A follow up to the previous drabble, which I've now called Prom!AU

Sansa excused herself to Jon, her hands were shaking so badly that she needed a minute to compose herself. Her relief at being able to go to the Prom had lasted until she and Jon had arrived at the venue. Then the stares and whispers had started, several people laughing outright in her face and her joy had fled. 

Now she was sitting in the bathroom, trying to get her nerves under control.

“Can you believe Sansa still came?” 

“I didn’t expect her to show her face for a least a week.”

“Serves her right. If I had to listen to her going on about how amazing Joff was one more time…”

The two girls burst into laughter and Sansa’s hands shook harder.

“Who’s the poor sap she managed to rope into being a last minute date?”

“I heard Joff say it was her brother and that no one else would be that desperate to bring her. Where else would she get a date four hours before Prom was due to start?”

“Hmm…doesn’t look like her. I heard all her brothers had auburn hair. Who cares, he’s gorgeous. Wonder if he’ll be happy to ditch her, too?”

Sansa’s hands curled into fists but before she could storm out of the cubicle to confront them, they left the bathroom. 

Her anxiety gave away to anger. _I’ll show them_ , she thought.

Jon was right where she had left him, propping the wall up and watching the proceedings with a bored expression on his face. He was much more handsome than she remembered, the grey suit bringing out his eyes and setting his dark curls off to advantage. A few girls milled around to his left, obviously trying to get his attention, but he paid them no heed.

“Sorry about that, darling,” she said loudly, knowing that she had an audience.

Jon’s eyebrows rose at the endearment but she was pleased that he was quick enough not to question it. 

“Everything okay?” he asked in a low voice, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder. To Jon it was no doubt a brotherly action, but to outsiders it could be interpreted as intimate. 

“Sure. Want to dance?” 

He hesitated and Sansa smiled. “Come on, Jon. You can’t be that bad! And it’s a slow song, all you have to do is sway.”

Jon laughed then. “I suppose I can’t expect you not to dance at your own Prom.”

“Exactly,” she said breezily, grabbing his hand and executing a neat little twirl before dragging him off to the dance floor.

Joffrey was there dancing with a beautiful girl with a mass of chestnut girls. _Margaery Tyrell_ , she thought and was surprised to note that she did not feel jealous, despite wanting to scratch the other girl’s eyes out just a few hours ago. 

Joffrey watched Sansa’s progress to the middle of the floor, an ugly expression on his face. She gave him a little wave, a bright smile on her lips, knowing that he would not dare come up to her with Jon around. He was a bully and only preyed on the vulnerable and Jon looked anything but defenceless.

Turning back to Jon, Sansa twined her arms around his neck and pressed her body up against his.

“Sansa,” he warned, his hands going to her hips to push her back.

She clung even tighter to him and said, “Relax, Jon. It’s just a dance.”

“Robb would kill me if he saw this. Let alone your dad.”

“Robb isn’t here and daddy knows you’re a good man,” she said before burying her face into his neck. 

She smiled as she felt his arms slide around her and he relaxed into the dance. 

Sansa wasn’t sure how long they danced like that for, one slow song morphing into another, but she knew she had never felt so right being this close to any other boy she had dance with. Jon’s hands didn’t slide down or get grabby, but his thumbs rubbed little circles in the small of her back that had her shivering in delight and closing her eyes.   
Her father’s words swirled about her head. _Brave and gentle and strong_. Jon was all of those things.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the final installment of Prom!AU

“What’s the drama then, loser?” Theon asked as soon as Robb picked up the phone.

“Drama?”

“It was only your Facebook status three hours ago.” Robb could hear the mental rolling of eyes coming down the phone.  
“Oh, that!”

“Yes, _that!_ ” Theon mimicked. 

“That little shit, Joffrey Baratheon, dumped Sansa four hours before the Prom and said he was going with someone else.”

“What?!? Who does that?” 

Robb smiled at the disgust in Theon’s tone. If even _Theon_ thought your behaviour was inexcusable then it most definitely was.

“Didn’t you offer to take her?”

“Of course I offered to take her! She turned me down.”

Theon sniggered down the phone and Robb scowled. It wasn’t that funny and he didn’t blame Sansa for saying no. It would be humiliating having to turn up at your Prom with your brother and it went without saying that everyone would know the reason why. 

“So Princess Sansa didn’t go to her own Prom?” 

“No, she went.”

“What _stag_?”

“No, Jon took her.”

Robb winced and moved the phone a good few inches away from his ear as Theon burst into raucous laughter. 

“Have you finally finished?” Robb asked a good two minutes later. 

“Yeah, but Jon? He didn’t even go to our prom. Whose bright idea was that?”

“Dad’s.”

There was silence for a few seconds. Theon knew better that to say whatever had popped into his mind about Ned Stark to Robb.

“And you’re alright with that?” Theon asked, disbelief lacing his tone.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, we know how much of a loser Jon is, but the ladies…the ladies seem to dig him.”

“What ladies?”

“Well, you know I had that party the other month, which you dragged Jon to. By the way, I’m still not sure I’ve forgiven you for that. He was just what every party needs a brooding presence propping the wall up.”

“Theon!” Robb said, frustrated. “Get on with it. What ladies?”

“Oh yeah, Asha and Jeyne were talking about it the next morning. Going on about how handsome he’d become and how they wanted to run their hands through his hair as well as some other things I’d rather not think about. The news amongst the females is that he is…er…rather talented with his tongue, if you know what I mean.”

“What?”

“God, Robb! Do I have to spell it out for you? You know, he likes to go down on the ladies.”

“How do you know that?!” 

“Asha heard it from her friend, Ygritte. Hey, she has red hair, too. You don’t think Jon has a thing for redheads, do you?”

Robb’s head reeled from all the information as well as Theon’s distracted style of speech. Whilst Theon would happily brag about his sexual exploits, Jon was much more reserved. Robb knew he’d had a girlfriend, but he had never met her. 

“I have to go,” Robb murmured absent-mindedly.

There was another burst of laughter from the phone. “Going to dig your shotgun out?”

But Robb didn’t answer, putting the phone down and staring at his bedroom wall. 

Twenty minutes later, he shook his head. Of course Jon wouldn’t take advantage of Sansa, but he found himself going downstairs and waiting on the porch anyway.

\---------

Robb glared as the pair failed to notice him completely. It was after midnight and he’d been waiting out here for hours when Jon and Sansa finally had shown up. It had taken Robb half a second to clock the arm Jon had around Sansa’s shoulder. He watched as they held a whispered conversation entirely too close to each other, but it wasn’t until Jon leant down and kissed Sansa and to continued to kissed her that Robb jumped out of his chair and stomped towards the couple, who sprung apart.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he exploded.

“Robb, it’s not-” Jon started to say.

“Not what it looks like?!” Robb asked sarcastically. 

Jon bit his lip and looked down guiltily. 

“Go inside, Sansa. It’s time Jon and I had a little chat,” Robb said, his anger making his voice louder than he liked.

The front door opened and his father popped a head out. “What’s going on out here? I could hear you shouting all the way back in the kitchen.”

Robb pointed a finger at Jon. “Why don’t you ask _him_ what’s going on! I caught him kissing Sansa!”

He was pleased to note that Jon had the sense to look away, shame faced.

“Daddy! Will you talk to Robb? He’s being melodramatic and ridiculous plus he was lurking out here spying on me,” Sansa said.

Robb narrowed his eyes at Sansa before crossing his arms and waiting for dad to explode on the pair, a smug smile on his face.

Instead, he turned in amazement as his dad said, “Robb, come back inside and give them some privacy.”

Robb dropped his arms. “But, dad!”

“Come on, son.”

He had no choice but to follow his dad inside but he was pleased to note that Jon still could not look at him. The same could not be said of his sister, who glared as he passed her, hands on hips, looking as angry as when he’d beheaded her Barbie when they were kids.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Robb said, “You know they are probably kissing right now and Theon said-”

“Stop right there, I’m not interested in any sentence that begins ‘Theon said’, especially not when it concerns Sansa.”

“But-”

Ned put a hand on Robb’s shoulder. “I know she’s your sister and you take being the oldest seriously, but she is going to date. Would you rather her boyfriend be someone like Joffrey again?”

That had the protest dying on Robb lips. 

His father looked at him, understanding in his eyes. “Jon’s a good man, Robb. He’ll treat Sansa right and that’s all that matters.”

There was no objection Robb could make to that. He knew Jon was better than most men. “I still don’t like it.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "Jon x Sansa stressed".

Jon gripped Sansa’s hand firmly and wished he did not feel so stressed by this experience. He had been relaxed until they had driven down the exclusive road that lead to the estate owned by the one of the wealthiest families in Westeros. It had never made him feel out of place before, and he had stayed here with the Starks many times, but then he had just been Robb’s best friend. The unfortunate kid Ned had kept an eye on because of a promise he had made to Jon’s mother, a distant relative and childhood friend. Now he was going as Sansa’s boyfriend, the relationship that no one had seen coming, certainly not Jon.

It had been suggested Sansa go and stay up in the Northern wilderness Jon called home whilst recovering from a bad break-up. Sansa had grown tired of the South and the people who called themselves her friends, but who had dropped her without a moment’s notice when things had turned sour with Joffrey. She had wanted to return home, to the North, a place she had been so desperate to leave behind for the glamour and excitement of the South.

A couple of weeks had turned into a couple of months, and Sansa had taken a job helping Gilly at the nursery she owned. It had made Val and Tormund laugh. The Stark heiress and Craster’s daughter, but the unlikely duo had kind and compassionate natures, which the young children thrived under. 

Seeing Sansa fit into his life and amongst his friends had made Jon view her in a different way. She was no longer the prissy princess who had turned her nose up at the poor interloper in her exclusive life. Instead, she had been willing to muck in and help where needed, just laughing when her clothes became muddy rather than throwing the hissy fit she would have done a few years ago. One thing had led to another and, suddenly, Sansa was no longer sleeping in his spare room but in his bed. 

They had kept the relationship quiet for a few months, well as quiet as they could at Castle Black. Of course Tormund had laughed and joked about Sansa breaking Jon’s vow of celibacy but nothing had gone beyond the small community. It was not until Sansa’s family began to question the amount of time she had spent so far north that they had admitted to their relationship. It was then that Jon had been bidden to attend a family dinner. 

He had eaten plenty of Stark family dinners, had witnessed Ned and Robb interrogate Sansa’s potential boyfriends, had seen the boys squirm, and chuckled at the whole event. Now he was the one in the spotlight and his palms were sweaty to prove it. 

“It will be fine,” Sansa murmured as they turned into the driveway and parked outside Winterfell. He nodded and gulped to try and ease the dryness of his mouth. His tongue felt like cotton wool and he wasn’t sure he could even get any words out. 

Jon’s heart pounded as the waited for the heavy wooden door to open. Visions of Grey Wind and Shaggydog waiting to pounce skittered through his mind and he half wished had brought Ghost down with him instead of leaving him with Sam for the weekend. 

The door swung open and Sansa was dragged through the door into a bear hug. Her grip on Jon’s hand was lost and he heard her muffled protests as Robb mussed her head. She was rescued by an unseen pair of hands and Jon was left to face his oldest friend. Steeling himself, Jon met Robb’s eyes with a half sheepish, half defiant expression. 

Robb has crossed his arms, a mock scowl on his face. “Sansa, huh?” he said.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Hurt her and dad will get Ice out,” Robb said, referring the Stark ancestral sword that hung in the gallery at Winterfell. 

“Robb! Don’t scare Jon before he’s even got through the door,” Ned admonished coming over to greet Jon. He clasped Jon’s hand in his before pulling him into a hug and whispering in his ear, “He’s right though.”

Jon pulled back in alarm and watched, pupils dilated, as Ned clapped Robb on the back. He had never known Ned to threaten before, and was so worried that he missed the playful wink Ned threw Sansa, who shook her head in amusement.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was: Sansa/Jon blissful please. Too rarely do we get to see them just blissfully happy with one another. Love you fics.

The first snows of the winter descended on Winterfell unexpectedly, turning the grey fortress into a white wonderland of soft powder and ice overnight.

Sansa stood on the covered bridge than ran between the armoury and the Great Kepp. Her arms were wrapped around her trying to keep the scant warmth from her autumn fur cloak in. She would look for her warmer winter cloak, but she knew that if Lyarra caught her, then she would be confined to the Great Keep for her own health instead of standing here, slightly chilled, but watching her grandchildren leap about in the snow with glee.

Two arms snaked around her waist, much thicker now than it had been when she had first married, and the heavy folds of a large fur lined cloak was draped around her.

She tilted her head up and backwards, looking into Jon’s grey eyes, which were framed by a mass of steel grey hair.

“How do you know to find me here?” she asked.

“I followed the sound of children’s laughter.”

“I love having them here,” Sansa said wistfully. “All too soon Lyarra will return to White Harbour.”

“Aye, but you still have Beron’s pack to keep your hands busy, and Arrana will be here soon enough her brood.”

Sansa leant her head back against Jon’s shoulder. “That’s true.”

She closed her eyes, letting the blissful feeling of warmth and happiness wash over her. On the cusp of womanhood, she had thought she would never be happy again. How wrong she had been. Two score years of marriage to Jon had made sure of that.

“I am happy, Jon,” she said.

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Not as happy as I am.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for Lady-of-the-English's prompt: How about some classic Jon x Sansa breathless please?
> 
> It's not very shippy.

Dragons had been whispered of in the Vale for several turns of the moon. Reports had come via Gulltown of a silver haired Targaryen princess riding a large black beast reminiscent of Balerion the Dread with two other dragons in tow.

Petyr had scoffed at the rumours.

“Dragons died years ago, Sweetling,” he had told her, late one night, when a fat package of letters had been delivered to him via Gulltown, the Mountains of the Moon still impassable thanks to the long harsh winter they were enduring.  “The only dragon roaming around Westeros is this boy currently residing in King’s Landing and claiming to be Aegon Targaryen. I wonder what game Varys is playing with him.”

But the reports did not die down and, as word of more sightings slipped into the Vale, the paler Petyr became. He muttered about being trapped and unable to see what was happening. Any informers he had once had in King’s Landing had either fled to safer places or perished in the Greyscale plague that had decimated that city and forced Petyr to close Gulltown and all other places of port in the Vale to any passing ships.

However, the dragon that landed outside the Gates of the Moon was no rumour. It had moss green scales that blended in with the flashes of trees that shone through the snow here and there in the forest that surrounded Nestor Royce’s castle. Its bronze eyes gleamed dangerously as they observed the startled people on the battlements who were frozen in terror.

It was undoubtedly a fierce sight, but it was not that which drove the breath from Sansa’s lung, leaving her gasping for air. It was the rider on the dragon’s back who did that. She recognised that long face and those dark curls even if there was no discernible trace of the boy she had once known left in the features.

“Jon,” she breathed.  


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for LadySaruka: if you're still taking prompts- Jon/Sansa, Abandoned

Jon should have known better. This was what happened when you stepped so far over the line, you could no longer see it.

Having a summer fling with your best friend’s little sister ranked up there with one of the stupidest things a guy could do. Having a fling with said sister when she was the princess type and you were nothing more than a blue collar worker was possibly the dumbest thing that could happen.

To make matters worse, he had topped it off by falling in love with Sansa.

He had revelled all summer in her sweet smiles and even sweeter caresses and convinced himself that their fling could actually go somewhere. Had nearly broached with her several times the idea of speaking to Robb about their relationship. Had even worked out how much he would need to save in order to go and visit her twice a month at her fancy Ivy League university.

Sansa had never been in danger, though.

She had driven off for her first semester of college with barely a backwards glance, excited at the prospect of leaving the sleepy wintery town they lived in to go and mix it up with other rich and glamorous types. No doubt she would soon find her frat house prince.

Jon had never stood a chance.

The worst thing was that he had known this. He was to blame for how he was currently feeling. He was the one who had breached the terms of their fling by falling for her when they had agreed on no strings attached.

That realisation didn’t make him feel any less abandoned.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the prompt 'breathless' and follows up the previous drabble.

The sight of her drives the breath from Jon’s lungs. His memory had not done justice to just how beautiful she truly is.

For one lingering moment, they catch eyes, and she gives him a small smile. A private moment in the midst of such a public place that that has his heart racing and his imagination kicking in. For one sweet moment, he pretends that she is walking towards him in that cloud of white tulle that does nothing to dim the pure beauty of her auburn hair.

But then she looks away, walks passed him in a swirl of white satin and lace, and the moment is over, just as she is gone – and has been gone for years. Once more he is left with nothing but the ache of his heart and the sting of rejection that has never dissipated, even after he moved away from Winterfell and all the memories he has of her.

He skips out when she steadfastly vows herself to the upright man standing by her side. Jon cannot bear to sit through the formality of her promising herself to someone other than him.

His hands shake as he lights a cigarette in the shade of an enormous oak tree. He inhales the much needed smoke and bangs his head against the rough bark. She had wanted him to quit and had nagged at him until he did so. He had stuck to it until her engagement was announced in the national press. Then he had gone out and smoked his way through an entire pack.

Jon wishes it was as easy to throw off his love, but Sansa Stark cannot be forgotten. He knows he will never love another the way he still loves her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: It’s the most important game of the season but the only tickets left are in the special couples only Valentine’s Day section - pretend to be my date so we can go?

It was just her luck! It was the big game against Lannisport City and the tickets were sold out! Sansa tried to stop the tears from filling her eyes as she stomped away from the ticket box at the turnstiles but couldn’t stop one tear escaping, which she wiped away angrily.

She knew she shouldn’t have waited to get a ticket but she had hoped that Robb would be able to make it back from Riverrrun in time to go with her and so had held off – not wanting to buy two tickets in case. Which had turned out to be a good thing in the end as Robb was still stuck south of the Neck.

And now there were only stupid gimmicky tickets for some tacky Valentine’s Day stunt left on sale and the ticket office had refused to sell her any of those stating that it was for couples only.

She kicked an empty drinks can in frustration. This game was important – it was the home match against the hideous Lannisport Lions. The one game her father had always taken them to see because beating Lannisters was always a good thing if you were a Stark.

Sansa wasn’t even sure when the huge rivalry had started. It wasn’t as if Lannisport City was even close to Winter Town United. However, there was bad blood between Lannisters and Starks although the origins of the hatred was shrouded in the deep mists of time when Westeros was a much more barbaric place and kings had supposedly ruled from an iron throne made of melted down swords.

She couldn’t say she particularly cared about the whys or wherefores but she did care about football and she _needed_ to watch this match!

There was a hesitant tap on her shoulder and Sansa spun round about to annihilate whoever had dared to touch her to stop short at the tall, lean figure of someone who looked vaguely familiar.

“Sansa? Sansa Stark?”

“Yeah,” she replied a little guardedly.

It wasn’t as if she could deny her identity in Winter Town. The Starks had lived in Winterfell forever. Legend said one of her ancestors had built the castle and it was there was always a Brandon in every generation.

However, the pitfalls of being known by sight was that every creep in the vicinity thought they could get away with hitting on you because they already knew your name. She hoped he wasn’t one of those guys because he incredibly attractive. The parka he wore did little to hit the broadness of his shoulders and black curls peeped out from the beanie that was smushed down on his head.

“Hi, I don’t know if you remember me but I’m Jon. Jon Snow. You know, Robb’s friend.”

“Jon Snow!” Sansa exclaimed. “Of course I remember you.”

 _Wow,_ she thought, _he really had grown into that long face!_

Then the happy thought occurred to her. “Hey, I don’t suppose you’re free this evening are you?”

He shrugged. “I was just heading up to Winterfell to see if Arya was around.”

“She’s on a date.”

“Oh,” Jon said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking a little lost.

“Which works out perfectly,” Sansa said, grabbing his arm and herding him towards the turnstiles.

“Er…why?” he asked bemused.

“Because you and I are going on a date.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes wide and confused. “What?” he finally spluttered out.

“Hope you like football, Jon!” she exclaimed happily as she threaded her hand through his. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: Jon/Sansa and "My kid hero worships you - would you mind recording a message for them and signing an autograph?" I will love it either way, but I would super love it if Sansa is the athlete (and who doesn't love daddy!Jon) Thank you!
> 
> No daddy!Jon unfortunately but Nights' Watch Boys!

“Oh oh oh!” Sam exclaimed breathlessly startling both Jon and Grenn and causing Pyp to break out into sniggers.

“Are you okay?” Jon asked.

“It’s her. It’s really _her!_ ”

“Who?” Grenn asked.

“Sansa Stark,” Sam exhaled with a kind of reverence that was only ever heard in Sam’s voice when he spoke about wizards and Sansa Stark – figure skating extraordinaire.

Sam’s three friends all swivelled in their seats so they could get a look.

“Shit, it really is her,” Pyp said.

“How is she so much better looking in person?” Grenn asked. “How is that possible?”

Jon’s awed gaze at the stunning redhead was broken as Sam clutched onto his arm, his fingers digging painfully into his skin. “Jon!” he said urgently. “Jon, you have to get her autograph for me. You totally have to get her autograph for me!”

“What? No. You need to go up and meet her. She’s your idol, not mine.”

“I can’t!” Sam wailed, his voice going up an octave and making the table nearest to them turn their heads.

“He has a point,” Grenn said. “Sam’s never going to get a coherent word out in front of-” he tailed off, his hands gesticulating towards Sansa.

“Oh because you’re being so eloquent yourself right now,” Pyp pointed out with a smug smile.

“Shut up,” Grenn snapped. “She’s beyond hot, okay! It’s indescribable.”

Jon closed his eyes for a moment.

“Please, Jon,” Sam begged shamelessly. “You’re the best one out of us when it comes to talking to girls.”

“That’s not saying much,” Pyp said, amused.

“Ygritte,” Grenn coughed.

Jon scowled at his two friends who now sat their sniggering at their own witticisms. There’s no way either of them would get Sam an autograph – they’d probably get a drink thrown in their face. He looked at Sam, who sat there with a pleading expression on his face that Jon was sure he’d copied from Ghost when he was begging for scraps.

“Alright,” Jon said with a sigh, incapable of disappointing his best friend.

His pushed his chair back and ran his fingers nervously through his hair. He didn’t approach many girls full stop let alone Olympic gold medal winning superstars.

He hovered for a second before dragging in a deep breath and striding purposefully up to Sansa Stark.

“Er…hi,” he said and then faltered as she turned a stunning pair of vivid blue eyes onto him.

“Can I help you?” she asked, looking unsure if she should be amused or alarmed.

“Yeah, you’re Sansa Stark, right?” he asked.

_Smooth, Jon, real smooth!_ he scolded himself mentally.         

“Yes,” she said a little hesitantly.

“Can I get an autograph, please?” he asked before hurriedly tacking on, “If you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” she said, the little smile that curled her lips obviously showing that she’d settled on being amused.

Jon handed over the bookmark that Sam had thrust into his hands. At least it was fairly generic and not too embarrassing being one that Sam had kept from their university days.

“What’s your name?” Sansa asked.

“Jon,” he replied before he realised that it needed to be made out to Sam. “But could you make it out to Sam?”

“Sam?”

“Yeah,” he said, pointing out his friend. “He’s a massive fan but was a little too shy to come over and ask you.”

“Oh. Did you volunteer to come and get it for him?” Sansa asked as she gave a small wave in Sam’s direction.

“Sort of,” Jon said.

“That’s sweet.”

“He loves you. I was his roommate during the last Winter Olympics and he had your figure skating schedule taped up on the fridge so he didn’t miss any of it.”

Colour flooded her cheeks at his words and a grin crept onto her face. “That’s really nice to hear.”

“Yeah, you should have heard him when your scores came up in the final round. Our neighbours had to bang on the wall.”

Sansa shot another glance in Sam’s direction who wasn’t even trying to hide his interest in the conversation.

“Do you think he’d want to take a selfie with me?”

Jon puffed out a little laugh. “I think it would be all his birthdays and Christmases rolled into one!”

It turned out that Sansa Stark’s friend was running late and so Sansa drank her coffee with them, laughing at the lame antics of Grenn and Pyp, chatting to Jon about ice hockey, and taking the time to draw an incredibly starstruck Sam out of his shell.

As she left, she slipped Jon a napkin with her number on it. “You’re an incredibly sweet friend,” she said as he walked her to the door. “It’d be nice to get coffee on our own one day.”

Jon couldn’t help the big smile on his face as he walked back to his friends, who whistled and heckled him as they saw it.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: You were the only one in class that got my TV show reference so hey wanna marathon? jon x sansa pleaseee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ignored the class bit and of course I made the TV show The 100. And then because I can, I threw in something else I love, so in this the Starks are Villa fans. I don't care if it makes sense or not - my ficlet, my rules!
> 
> Thanks to SansaPotter for the prompt.

“Sansa! What are you doing here?”

Sansa turned to her left to see Jon, her brother’s roommate, settling into the seat beside her.

“My sister, my responsibility,” she said with rolled eyes and pointing towards Arya who was down at the front, her phone out, taking pictures of the players warming up. “At least according to mum and dad as Robb is away.”

Jon chuckled at that and said, “Oh, channelling Bellamy Blake’s words, huh? Let’s hope this match ends with a massacre of the other team.”

Staring at him in shock, Sansa said, “You got that reference? Hang on, _you_ watch The 100?”

“Don’t you give me shit for it as well,” Jon said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Robb teases me for watching ‘that teenage girl show’.”

“Ugh, my brother can be so lame,” Sansa said. “It’s _not_ a teenage girl show and even if it was then that doesn’t stop it from being good.”

“I know. I tried to get him to watch it with me but he didn’t make it past the first two episodes despite me telling him it got better.”

“His loss,” Sansa said with a shrug before she looked curiously at Jon. “I still didn’t peg you as being a fan.”

“It’s a good show. It reminds me a little of Battlestar Galactica and there’s not that much sci-fi on TV these days. Besides, Sam had been raving on about it so I decided to give it ago.”

“Okay, it’s now _your_ responsibility to help me survive this football match. So tell me; Bellarke or Clexa?” She asked dramatically.

Surprisingly, Jon was really good at both chatting to her about The 100 and being engrossed in the game. All her dread at having her Saturday afternoon wasted at Villa Park watching a boring football match disappeared, especially as Jon hugged her enthusiastically as Agbonlahor put the ball in the back of the net making it 1-0 to Villa.

All too soon, the game came to an end and Sansa actually found herself sad as they filtered out of Villa Park and made their way to Witton Station.

“So,” Jon said, an embarrassed expression on his face as they waited for the next train. “Er…Sam was going to come over and re-watch Season 1 with me tomorrow, but he cancelled so he could arrange a date with Gilly. Fancy coming over to watch instead?”

“Are you asking me to marathon a TV series with you, Jon Snow?”

“Well, I’ve got the snacks and everything already,” he mumbled as his cheeks flushed adorably.

“Sounds like a plan,” Sansa said. “Text me what time to come over.”

“Great. Will do,” Jon said, a big grin on his face as the train pulled into the station and the girls got on.

“Did Jon just ask you out on a date?” Arya asked, as the doors closed and the train moved off.

“In his own unique way,” Sansa said beaming as she waved to the receding figure watching on the platform.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: I keep staring at you cause you’re gorgeous and when you confront me about it I panic and say I was trying to copy your techniques cause I had no idea how to do the technical and now I’m in your kitchen and you’re wearing an adorable apron and teaching me things you don’t know I already know, because I’m a disaster and you’re an angel… this is never going to work out Jon x Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked for The Great British Bake Off prompts to build up to the final, which aired last night.

Sansa didn’t quite know how her staring problem had led to her being here, standing in a fellow contestant’s kitchen as he taught her how to make a genoise sponge, but it had.

The problem, of course, was that Jon Snow was far too pretty for his own good. Those grey eyes and those curls had been her downfall from the very first show. She’d gotten lucky so far in that he was usually placed behind her, so it had limited her staring at him time.  Unfortunately for her, in the quarter final, he’d been placed diagonally and to the front of her so she’d been able to stare at him to her heart’s content.

With that kind of distraction, Sansa still wasn’t sure how she’d managed to get through all three challenges, let alone make it into the semi-final of the Great British Bake Off, but she had.

However, Jon Snow had caught her staring during the technical and rather than admit to the rather embarrassing fact that she was half in love with him thanks to his ridiculously full lips and broad shoulders, she’d scrambled for an excuse and ended up coming saying that she’d never made an genoise sponge before and was looking for help during the technical.

And that was the beautiful thing about the Bake-Off, rather than scowl and pout at her because she was competition, he’d given her a rare smile and offered to help her out during the week.

So here she was.

Winterfell’s champion genoise sponge baker pretending that she had no idea how to get the airy light sponge to rise.

Sansa wasn’t going to complain though as Jon’s teaching technique was rather hands on. He currently stood behind her, his arms encircling her as he ‘taught’ her how to fold the flour in carefully using a figure of eight movement. She was not to be blamed if she pressed against him rather more than necessary and if the way his arms tightened around him, he didn’t seem to mind. However, the feel of him pressed so tightly against her meant that her mind wasn’t really paying attention to his words and she feared she was answering him at random.

“You seem a little distracted,” he said a few minutes in. “Am I making sense?”

“Oh yes, complete sense,” she replied, taking advantage of his comment to gaze at him close up. “Sift half the flour mix in, making sure you fold carefully in a figure of eight so you don’t lose the bubbles. Once it has been fully incorporated, fold in the rest of the flour.”

Jon narrowed his eyes slightly. “You already know how to do this, don’t you?”

Sansa couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her mouth as she nodded her head in confirmation. “I totally do. I was staring at you because you’re so beautiful and I got flustered when you called me out on it.”

A delicious flush spread across his cheeks and she turned fully in his arms then to face him. “I hope you don’t mind,” she added.

He looked down towards the floor for a minute before his eyes met hers again. “I was kind of hoping to win you over with my genoise sponge making skills,” he said a little shyly.

“I could be impressed by other things that rise,” she suggested with a raised eyebrow before cringing at her Mel and Sue inspired innuendo.

However, Jon didn’t appear to mind her cheesy words. He ripped his adorable novelty wolf apron off and proceeded to show her baking wasn’t his only skill.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: Jon/Sansa "we live a short transport ride away from each other and you keep insisting I come over and try things for you during the week between shows… are you hitting on me or do you lack any other friends?" pretty please?! Thank you love! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another GBBO AU.

“So you  _do_  have friends,” Sansa blurted out as she bumped into Jon in the John Lewis homeware department.

He turned from where he was chatting with two other people – clearly a couple – and looked at her in bemusement. “You had doubts about that?”

“Yes…No…Yes,” she stuttered in acute embarrassment as he continued to look at her as if she was crazy. “It’s just that you kept talking about meeting up during the week and I couldn’t work out if you had no friends or were hitting on me.”

If Sansa could control time right now, she would rewind the past couple of minutes and they would never happen. In fact, next time Bran and Rickon asked her what power she’d like as a superhero she was definitely going with the ability to manipulate time.

“No, he was definitely hitting on you,” one of his friends said, leaning over and winking at her.

Jon sent him a glare that had no discernible effect on his unrepentant friend.

“What?” the friend asked. “I told you to just ask her out, but you insisted you knew what you were doing, which clearly you didn’t if Sansa had pegged you as a socially inept loser with no friends.”

Jon groaned and put a hand over his eyes, whilst Sansa’s embarrassment began to ease.

“He  _is_ socially inept,” the friend added with an indulgent smile towards Jon. “But he does have friends.”

She smiled gratefully at his friend and stuck her hand out and said, “Sansa Stark. I’m the one who kicks Jon’s arse every week in the Great British Bake-Off.”

“Samwell Tarly and, just between you and me, I rather think he likes how you kick his arse!”

She laughed delightfully at that and then introduced herself to the girl who was clearly dating Samwell.

“So what are you doing here, Snow? Looking for ways to steal Star Baker off me?”

“Actually I’m helping Sam and Gilly put their wedding list together. They’re getting married in a couple of months.”

“Oh congratulations,” Sansa said, smiling at the obviously very happy pair.

“Why don’t you go and grab a coffee with Sansa whilst we look at non baking cookware,” Sam suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“I think I can ask people out on my own, Sam,” Jon retorted.

“Apparently not,” Sansa remarked with a smirk. “You’ve been failing miserably. Lucky for you, I have lots of good tips on how to ask girls out – but you have to buy me a coffee if you want me to share them.”

“And that’s how it’s done,” Sam said, grinning at them both.

Sansa winked at Sam and Gilly whilst she linked her arm through Jon and tugged him in the direction of the escalators.

“We’re going to need to upgrade Jon to a plus one,” Gilly commented as they disappeared from view.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: you stole -i’m sorry- “accidentally took” my pastry from the freezer and used it, and I have held a grudge against you ever since that just seems to grow stronger every time you try to apologize and damn you for being a good baker and making it to the final alongside me… wait what do you mean you’re helping me sort out a disastrous bake? this is the final! go do your own thing! jonxsansa please :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More GBBO fic!

Sansa had never been so close to tears in all her time baking. She had made it to the final of the Great British Bake Off and everything was going wrong!

She knew her signature bake had been risky, but it was the final, goddammit, and she had been determined to pull out all the stops.  _Especially_ as Jon Snow was still in the competition.

It was petty to hold a grudge for 6 weeks, she knew that, but she also couldn’t help it. He’d stolen her puff pastry out of the fridge and then won all the plaudits for it. Whilst she’d been forced to use his far-from-adequate puff pastry and received a disappointed look from  _both_  Mary and Paul. She had reasons to hold that grudge!

Two hands came around the meringue snow castle she was trying to construct out of Swiss and Italian meringue and cream. “Here, let me hold this together whilst you layer in some cream. It should hold a lot better then,” Jon said.

Sansa stared at him a moment before he raised an eyebrow and jerked his head signalling that she should get on with it. Not wanting to waste another second of precious time, she started to do as he suggested.

“Why are you helping me? It’s the final! Shouldn’t you be sorting out your own bake?”

“I’m waiting for something to cool down and you look like you need an extra pair of hands.”

She did and she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

As she continued to work, he said, “I was also kind of hoping that helping you out would mean you stopped hating me.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, Sansa said, “You  _stole_  my puff pastry. I’m not sure you should be forgiven.”

“It was by accident! I would never intentionally steal something from you. I’m really _really_  sorry,” he said giving her puppy dog eyes that she was sure she shouldn’t encourage.

However, that was her problem. Prior to Jon stealing her puff pastry in week 3, she’d been a flustered mess around him, which she had not enjoyed. Sansa was used to being the one who made others nervous and Jon was nothing like the suave, sophisticated men that usually attracted her. He was pretty sombre and quiet and liked flannel far too much.

Then again, maybe that was something in his favour. It’s not as if any of the men she’d dated before had turned out to be particularly nice. They’d all had the correct physical package but left a lot to be desired in the personality department. That was something that could not be said for Jon. None of the other contestants had a bad word to say about him, claiming he was kind and helpful.

Randa had eyed her knowingly as her grudge continued during Quarter Final week and had said, “It’s because you fancy him. If it had been Pod who’d stolen your pastry, you’d have forgiven him by now, but Jon’s hot and you hate that you find him hot.”

She’d vehemently denied the accusations, but she couldn’t lie to herself any longer. It  _was_  because she found him attractive.

Taking a deep breath, she met his anxious gaze and gave in to the inevitable. “I’ll forgive you, if you take me out for a drink once this is all over.”

Jon stared at her in shock. “What?”

“Take me out for a drink and I’ll forget you stole my pastry.”

“ _Accidentally took_  your pastry and I’ll take you to dinner, not a drink.”

“Deal,” she said before she nodded over to his own work station. “Now get back to your own bake. It’s the final, dummy!”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: Jon x Sansa - we both thought I was joking when I proposed to you the moment I tasted your macaroons but this is becoming less and less of a joke for me and what did I do to deserve this? can’t I just bake in peace?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last of the GBBO ficlets - and my favourite out of them.

“These macaroons are so good I could marry you!” Sansa declared soulfully.

“And that’s a first, ladies and gentlemen, a marriage proposal on the Great British Bake Off,” Sue deadpanned into the camera.

Sansa could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. It was the first time she’d been so blown away by a contestant that she hadn’t even realised what she was saying and she felt incredibly unprofessional right now.

However, in her defence, no one had seen Jon Snow coming this year. The bespectacled, flannel wearing Jon Snow who looked as if he was more at home hanging out with Bear Grylls in the wilderness rather than in the Bake Off tent producing baked goods so delicate and intricate that she had run out of superlatives and was now apparently proposing marriage. She was in trouble with this one.

She could see the colour high on his cheeks as Paul gave him the famed handshake and Sansa smiled vaguely in his direction. Her main aim at this point was to get out of this with some dignity intact and she was pleased to note that she retained a calm and serene air as they moved around the rest of the contestants, sampling and offering praise or criticism.

When Sansa had replaced the retiring Mary Berry two seasons ago, there had been an outcry that the Beeb was hiring her purely to ‘sex-up’ the Great British Bake-off. It wasn’t true, of course, Sansa deserved to be hired. She’d been a teenage cooking sensation, winning Junior Masterchief and gaining her own TV show not long after. However, her real love had always been baking and so when her agent told her the BBC were interested in hiring her to replace Mary, she had jumped at the opportunity.

Her first season had gone smoothly, but this year looked as if it might be derailed by just how affected she was by Jon Snow. Was she tacky enough to be falling for one of the contestants? The Daily Mail was going to be all over this with their usual brand of vitriolic hate.

“He should be a lumberjack not a baking phenomenon,” she muttered to herself as they left the tent.

“Just imagine what else those hands can do,” Mel teased her and Sansa wished she could purge the imagery conjured by those words.

Sansa avoided going near Jon the next day as the judges and contestants all hugged after the latest elimination. She didn’t trust herself too close to him, limiting herself a nod and a mouthed, “well done.”

She told herself that she imagined the heavy gaze she could feel coming from him as they all waited for the cars to take them away from the filming sight, but she caught sight of him staring at her as she slid into her car. His eyes tracked over her long legs with a heat that had her pressing her thighs firmly together on the way home. Her dreams that night certainly were not PG.

Unsurprisingly, Jon Snow won the Great British Bake Off that year, wowing them in the final with a lemon themed showstopper that had her daydreaming about him feeding it to her morsel by tasty morsel whilst she licked his fingers clean.

This was meant to be a family friendly show not fuel for her fantasies.

At the celebration banquet afterwards, Jon towed her into a secluded room, pressed her up against the closed door and kissed her until she was incoherent.

Later that night, he fed her macaroons with the excuse that she needed to “keep her strength up.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "we’re at a harry potter themed halloween party and you and i are the ONLY hufflepuffs, what the heck?" this ons screams Jon x Sansa

“I always took you for a man of taste,” Sansa said, coming up to him.

Jon snorted at that. If there was one thing he was sure of then it was the fact that Sansa had never praised his sense of style before. “Hmm…not sure I ever got that impression,” he replied.

“Well, obviously it’s something you’ve grown into since the last time I saw you if your Hufflepuff attire is anything to go on.”

He laughed then and grinned at her. “Clearly we are the only two here with any sense of style.”

“So many Gryffindors and Slytherins,” she grimaced at the rest of the people attending Robb and Margaery’s Harry Potter themed Halloween party. “At least Robb and Margaery are sorted correctly. He’s _definitely_ a Gryffindor and she’s _definitely_ a Slytherin.”

“Full disclosure,” he said, leaning in close and whispering in her ear as if he was sharing a state secret. “I’m not a Hufflepuff on Pottermore. I just like the house in general.”

She turned then, her face so close to his that he could count the freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose. She’d hated them growing up, saw them as a blemish, but he’d always thought they were cute. Gave her perfect face a little character. Aware of the unexpected affect her closeness was having on him now, he wasn’t sure he found them cute so much anymore rather than sexy.

“I’m not a Hufflepuff either,” she whispered back. “Guess that makes one more thing we have in common.”

“Hmm,” he said, distracted by how stunning she was this close up. He was sure he should take a step back, but his legs seemed incapable of doing such a thing. Then his hand came up and brushed a stray strand of hair away from her eyes.

“Jon,” she murmured, her eyes locked onto his lips.

He leaned forward and was millimetres from brushing his lips against hers, when Robb’s strident voice sounded across the room and he realised he was about to kiss Sansa Stark in a crowded room.

In sync, they both stepped back and then Sansa gave him a wicked smile and said, “Want to find somewhere a little quieter?”

“I heard Hufflepuffs are particularly good finders,” he retorted and enjoyed the peal of laughter she gave at his cheesy reference.

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: Jon x Sansa "whoops you’re wearing the same costume as my best friend, i did not mean to hug you and kiss your cheek, where is my friend?? but you are so cute."mpt:

Jon spots Ygritte across the crowded room. She’s got her back to him so she hasn’t seen him yet. He’s not sure how she managed to talk him into coming here. He hates parties – definitely hates _Halloween_ parties where he has to dress up.

“Hey,” he says as he kisses her cheek and locks his arm around her neck in a warm, sibling-style hug.

Ygritte stiffens, which confuses him but then she turns around and he realises that she’s not Ygritte after all.

“Shit!” he says apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I really did not mean to molest you. I thought you were my friend, Ygritte. She said she was coming dressed a superhero and I saw red hair and the Jean Grey outfit and just assumed…which again, sorry, that’s a really dick thing to do.”

He’s flustered by the time he’s finished his stumbling and long apology.

“Jon Snow,” the girl says and he looks at her closely for the first time. His eyes having dropped to the floor in embarrassment before.

He mouth gapes a little and he exclaims, “Sansa? Sansa Stark? Is that you?”

“Yep,” she says with a smile.

“Wow,” he breathes and then flushes an even brighter colour because he’s making an even bigger idiot out of himself.

“So…erm…is Robb around too?”

Jon hasn’t seen the Starks since his mum moved them away from Winter Town a decade ago. He’d been devastated as Robb Stark had been his best friend from nursery upwards. He’d been sure that he would never find another friend in the wilderness that was the Haunted Forest. But then Ygritte had taken him under her wing, introduced him to her group of friends and set about getting rid of his ridiculous Southern ways (her words not his. Aunt Catelyn, Robb’s mum, had been from the South and he was a true son of the North compared to her).

“Yeah, we’re all here,” she looks at his costume then and starts laughing. “You’re Wolverine, right?”

He shrugs, a little sheepish. There hadn’t been much choice left in the costume shop by the time he’d gone to hire something and Sam had told him it’d be perfect  because Ghost was practically a wolf so he should definitely play on that, despite Jon’s protests that Wolverine didn’t turn into a wolf or anything.

“Then you’ll fit right in. Bran made us come as X-Men. He’s such a comic nerd.”

It was weird to think of Bran being anything other than the barely walking toddler he’d been when Jon had left to go further north.

She grabs his hand and tows him towards the food table, where he can see the other Stark siblings plus Theon Greyjoy, who was Uncle Ned and Aunt Catelyn’s foster child. He sees that Bran is in a wheelchair, dresses as Professor X.

“Bran is paralysed?” he asks without thinking.

“Yeah,” Sansa replies sadly. “He had an accident a couple of years ago.”

As they near the table, Sansa raises their linked hands and shouts, “Hey, look who I stumbled across.”

“Jon Snow!” Robb crows. “Look at you. Theon was sure you’d freeze to death in your first winter.”

Jon snorts. “Yeah, he’s only saying that because he’s soft and from the Iron Isles.”

“Fuck you, Snow,” Theon says.

He slips right back into bantering with Robb and Theon, and messing about with Arya. However, he spends the majority of his time chatting to Sansa about what he’s doing at Castle Black University and his plans for the future. It’s easy to talk to Sansa, once he’s got passed how gorgeous she now is and if she wasn’t Robb’s sister then he’d have asked her out.

But she takes the matter into her own hands. As they leave the party for the night, she says. “Castle Black isn’t that from Winterfell. You better come and take me out for dinner.”

“Yeah…er…I’d love to,” he stutters incoherently.

She takes his phone and saves her number in his contacts before leaning up and kissing his cheek. He blushes bright red, which causes Robb and Theon to jeer good naturedly at him.

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: Halloween prompt! Jon/Sansa- At a haunted house OR one of them (accidentally or not) dresses up for Halloween as a character that the other has a ~thing~ for? Thank you lovely!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like all my Jon x Sansa Halloween drabbles have revolved around costumes, but I could not resist this!

Sansa clutched Jeyne’s arm, came to a stop and whined, “No.”

Jeyne used to how melodramatic Sansa could be at times, looked at her friend in amusement and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“How could he do this to me? Why is he doing this to me?”

“You’ve lost me.”

“Jon Snow. Have you _seen_ who Jon Snow is dressed as?”

Sansa waited impatiently whilst her friend scanned the room looking for Robb’s oldest and best friend. She didn’t understand how it could take so long – then again, her eyes seemed to automatically hone in on Jon whenever she entered a room he was already in. It was inconvenient this crush of hers. She hated it and she wished it would go away. It’s was ridiculously clichéd and she also got all kinds of teasing from Jeyne Poole who thought it was _hilarious_ that Sansa had fallen so into lust with _Jon Snow_ of all people.

If she wasn’t so knee deep in wanting him so much that she couldn’t look at his hands without picturing just all the things he could do her with them, she’d probably find it amusing, too. Yet, she was so it wasn’t at all entertaining for her.

Jeyne finally found him and said, “He’s dressed as what – Mr Rochester? That’s not hot, Sansa, he locked his wife in an attic! Look at Theon, he’s dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow and looks divine.”

Sansa would find Jeyne’s crush on Theon funny, but she’d known him for too long and was fairly disgusted by Jeyne’s lack of taste. Theon was a slut and her best friend could do so much better.

“Ugh, please. First off, no, Theon is _not_ divine and, secondly, how many times have I told you watch North and South? I’m not even asking you to read the book (which you should, by the way). No, I’m basically giving you a cop out – a cop out where Richard Armitage smoulders at the camera for four hours! He’s John Thornton. It’s almost as if he’s read my mind and come as the one fictional character that I have a massive weakness for.”

Jeyne tilted her head and scanned Jon up and down. “He does look good, I’ll give him that. Those trousers are doing good things for his thighs and his shoulders look pretty amazing.”

“Exactly. This is not good, Jeyne, not good at all. You have to keep me away from him.”

“Away from him? Why? What are you going to do exactly? Push him up against the wall and kiss him senseless?”

\--------

That’s exactly what Sansa did, when Jeyne, distracted by flirting with Theon, left her alone for ten minutes. She tracked Jon down, grabbed him by his cravat, pulled him into an empty room, pushed him up against the door and proceeded to show him exactly how much she liked him dressed as John Thornton.

However, she missed the way he hi-fived Arya when she finally let him go after getting him to agree concrete plans for a date the next night and the money he slipped in her little sister’s hands. It wasn’t until the next Halloween that he let slip how he’d bribed Arya to tell him the one costume that would get Sansa all hot and flustered so she would make a move.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt Jon x Sansa - "I'm handing out candy and you're taking your little siblings out trick or treating and OMG that's just adorable."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I have no idea what this is or why it's so weird!

“That is probably the most adorable sight I’ve seen all night,” Jon said.

The tall redhead raised her eyebrows but it really was. He’d seen some pretty good costumes but nothing as cute as Little Red Riding Hood out taking her two wolves for a walk.

Then Little Red smiled at him and said, “Thanks. They both wanted to be wolves and I’ve been reading them Roald Dahl’s Revolting Rhymes so it made sense to have Little Red Riding Hood with pet wolves.”

He gave her a blank look and wished he’d had a normal upbringing so he was more up-to-date with children’s books. His mother had died giving birth to him and his father hadn’t wanted to bring his bastard to live with his wife and trueborn children, so Jon had been raised in the Tower of Joy by a couple of paid servants. It meant he was generally clueless when it came to actual childhood experiences. One of the reasons why he’d been so keen to open the door to trick or treaters all evening. This was stuff he’d never gotten to do as a kid.

“Basically, Roald Dahl takes popular fairy tales and gives them a twist. So Prince Charming isn’t so charming and Cinderella ends up with a bee keeper, and Goldilocks is treated like the burglar she is.”

Jon laughed at that. “So you’re not into the romance of fairy tales then?”

“Oh no, I am,” Little Red replied. “However, it’s cool to see them shaken up and my brothers really like these versions.”

“I’m Shaggydog,” the smaller of the two boys said incomprehensively before he held his pumpkin bucket out and asked, “Candy?”

Jon laughed and gave them both a couple of handfuls of chocolate. It was more than he’d given to other kids but they looked so cute and their sister was really pretty.

“You’re not from around here are you?” Little Red asked. “I mean, you look like you’re from around here but I’ve never seen you before.”

Jon did have a northern look. It had been a massive disappointment to his father who’d wanted a _daughter_ with silver hair and the purple eyes of House Targaryen. Not this Stark looking son. Jon had always wondered if that’s why he was never welcome in his father’s home.

“No. I was brought up in Dorne, but my mother came from the North.”

Little Red snapped her fingers in recognition. “Jon Snow. You’re Jon Snow!”

“Erm…yeah,” he said confused by how she knew him.

She held her hand out for him to shake and then said, “I believe we’re distant relations. My dad mentioned you had moved here. I’m Sansa Stark and these two are Bran and Rickon.”

He had yet to meet anyone from his mother’s distant family other than Ned, who’d rented him his flat and invited him up to dinner in Winterfell tomorrow night.

“Oh, nice to meet you,” Jon said, shaking her hand. “I’m coming up to dinner tomorrow, I believe.”

The prospect of meeting the rest of the Starks had suddenly become both more intriguing as well as lot more nerve-wracking now this gorgeous girl was going to be there.

She gave him a big smile then and said, “I look forward to meeting you properly tomorrow night, Jon Snow.”

There was a hint of promise in her tone that had his cheeks flushing.

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you please do the snoring prompt for Jon x Sansa: I didn’t know you snored until a half hour ago but i’m staring at the ceiling fighting the urge to kick you

If anyone had asked him which Stark sibling was most likely to snore then pretty Sansa Stark would’ve been at the bottom of his list.

However, here he was at 2:29am desperately trying to sleep and Sansa was snoring so loudly it had driven Ghost from the room in a fit of whimpers.

Not only did she snore loudly, but she apparently slept like the dead and was impervious to pokes. He’d been poking at her arm for the last ten minutes with no discernible effect. She was still snoring and he was still wide awake.

He had the urge to kick her – and hard! But before he gave in to his baser desires, which would probably cause her to become angry with him, he sighed, grabbed his pillows and a spare blanket from the cupboard and went to join Ghost on the sofa.

\----------

“What are you doing sleeping out here?”

The question woke him up and he sat up disorientated for a moment. The heavy weight of Ghost was gone from the bottom of the sofa.

“What?” he asked dazedly.

“Why are you sleeping on the sofa?”

As his sleepiness rescinded, he glared up at Sansa and said accusingly, “Your snoring drove me out here!”

He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth as she coloured a painful red, bit her lip and looked away.

“Oh,” she said in a small soft voice.

In his haste to get up, he tripped over his blankets and slid to the floor in an inelegant lump.

“Damn it!” he roared, irritated at his clumsiness at such a time.

He and Sansa had only been dating a couple of weeks and this was the first time she’d stayed over and he really didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.

_Too late,_ he thought as she flinched at his yelling.

“Uh, yeah, I’m going to take a shower and…erm…go,” she mumbled.

“No! Wait!” Jon said, getting to his feet. “I wasn’t shouting at you”

She stopped walking so quickly towards the bathroom, turned back to face him but her eyes remained staring to the side of him.

He rubbed the back of his neck and said, “I didn’t mind the snoring.”

Sansa looked at him for the first time since he had mentioned it and asked eagerly, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small smile. “It’s kind of cute, but you need to tell me how to wake you up.”

“Arya used to just kick me. Claimed it worked every time.”

_Huh_ , Jon thought. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Match-Making Robb and Arya!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the lovely winteroses-are-beautiful, who requested some Jon x Sansa fluff because she's been having a crappy day! Hope you like it, sweetling!

“What are you up to?” Arya asked suspiciously.

Robb straightened from where he had been peering through the crack in the door hinge. “Nothing.”

His little sister narrowed her eyes before she shoved him out the way and put her eye to the gap. She sighed, shook her head and turned back to her oldest brother, accusation written large on her face. “You’re throwing them together. Why?”

Robb eyed Arya, deciding whether to tell her or not. Jon was her favourite person in the world and he knew she wished that he was her real brother. It had bugged Robb when he was younger, that she would prefer their second cousin so much more than him – her actual brother. But then Jon looked like Arya and was often as out of place as Arya herself. He knew that she hadn’t picked up on Jon’s feelings towards Sansa, hadn’t realised he was more than usually tongue-tied in front of her older sister.  Robb wasn’t sure how Arya would take this knowledge, she didn’t have the best relationship with Sansa. Oh, they loved each other but were chalk and cheese and Jon was Arya's special person, the one she went to with her secrets, much as Sansa had done with him until recently. _Until Joffrey_ , he thought with a scowl. 

“He likes her,” he blurted out, thinking that getting Arya used to the idea would be better than it being dropped on her like a bombshell if Jon ever got the nerve up to ask Sansa out.

Arya scoffed. “Yeah, right. Jon wouldn’t like an airhead like Sansa.”

He tutted. “You have to stop that, you know. She’s not an airhead.”

“She doesn’t exactly say nice things about me.”

Robb sighed. Arya had a point. The comments that had come out of Sansa and Jeyne Poole's mouth had never been particularly kind but the Sansa that had come from university in the Vale wasn't the same girl of two years ago, although he thought the changes had started earlier when she had been dating Joffrey.  “Maybe she didn’t but if you hadn’t noticed, she’s grown up a bit lately.

That put a pensive expression on Arya’s face and she turned once more to peer into the drawing room. She stood watching for a much longer time before she turned back around and eyed Robb. “Maybe he does and maybe she has, but that doesn’t explain why you’re throwing them together. You hate the idea of Sansa dating anyone.”

His little sister knew him too well. If he had his way then none of his sisters would ever grow up. Sansa would be happy playing with dolls, acting out songs, and Arya would never want to do anything but run about Winterfell, getting under everyone’s feet and begging Father to be allowed to join the Winter Town fencing team, too, gender rules be damned. But he had had to come to terms with the reality when Sansa had brought home Joffrey Baratheon and he had had to restrain himself from launching himself across the table and punching him in the face.

Ironically, that had also been the moment he had realised Jon had feelings for Sansa. Jon had sat through the entire dinner with his fingers grasping his fork so tightly that his knuckles had shone white. Robb hadn’t been exactly thrilled with the discovery, but that was three years ago now, and in that time Sansa had broken up with Joffrey, had a drunken stalker, had to deal with the inappropriate attentions of their mum’s childhood friend, and had just broken up with her university boyfriend, Harry.

So he shrugged. “Jon’s the best of a bad bunch. At least he’ll treat her nicely.”

Arya snorted but looked at him with more respect than she usually did before she turned once more to peep through the crack. She shook her head as if wishing a distasteful thought away before glancing at him out the corner of her eye.

“I'm impressed that you’re actually prepared to push Sansa together with a male - let alone our cousin, but I’m not sure what Jon gets out of this situation,” she said, giving him a dismissive look and walking into room.

Robb thought it was strange that Arya had never noticed how lonely Jon was. He needed someone who would love him unconditionally and forever. Someone like Sansa.

\----------

Jon looked up as Arya came in and felt his cheeks redden as she gave him an assessing look. He knew the colour deepened as Robb followed her in and he shifted his position on the sofa so he wasn’t sitting quite so close to Sansa. Somehow he'd ended up with his thigh pressed against hers and now he was left with the pleasant tingle of lingering warmth all whilst Robb sat across from them making conversation. Guilt sat heavily at the bottom of his stomach. Robb would darken both his eyes if he knew what regularly went through Jon's thoughts when his eyes rested on Sansa.

“You promised to help me with my fencing defence. I waited for ages,” Arya voice cut across his thoughts, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

He rubbed the back of his neck and threw her an apologetic glance, but before he could speak Sansa got in there first.

“Sorry, Arya, it was my fault. I kept Jon tied up here.”

“I bet you did,” Arya muttered, making Robb smother a laugh and Sansa twist her hands in her lap, although she shyly smiled up at him making his gut twist in response.

Jon shifted on the sofa as Arya stared knowingly at him. “Maybe I could help you now,” he offered, keen to avoid uncomfortably atmosphere that had sprung up.

“Good idea. You don’t mind if I borrow Jon, do you, Sansa?” she asked in a sweetly mocking tone.

She didn’t bother waiting for a reply before she grabbed his hand and dragged him out with her.

Arya barely waited until they had left the drawing room before opening her mouth. “He knows,” she said cryptically.

“What?” he asked.

“Robb. He knows.”

Jon hoped he was imagining what Arya was getting at. He was sure if Robb even had an idea that his feelings towards Sansa were anything other than familial, he wouldn't sit there smiling but have the ancient Stark family sword out of the armory and up against his neck.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he said, praying that he wasn't that transparent.

“You know what I mean. Your little crush on Sansa. That’s why he’s throwing you together so much.”

He stopped and gaped at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Robb wouldn’t throw me together with Sansa. He’d throw me to Grey Wind.”

“Stupid,” Arya said, punching his arm. “Robb’s decided that as he can’t stop Sansa from dating, he’ll try and direct who she dates. Typical Robb really.”

Jon spluttered incomprehensively and Arya laughed in his face.

 -----------

“You know he’s never going to admit his feelings, right? He probably thinks he’s breaking some kind of honour code,” Robb said as he moved from the chair to the seat on the sofa Jon had just vacated.

Sansa looked up at him, a confused look on her face that would’ve fooled him if he hadn’t seen the dimple briefly quiver at the corner of her mouth. She was good at masking her feelings these days, a development that worried his parents.

“Don’t play dumb, Sansa, it doesn’t suit you. Jon’s not exactly going to win any awards for disguise.”

The slightly baffled look was dropped and a sweet smile spread across his sister’s face. “I know. I think it’s one of the things I appreciate most about him.”

There was something behind those words but Robb wasn’t sure if he wanted to probe into them. There was a reason his sister no longer dreamt about knights and princesses and happy ever afters and he was sure he probably would not be able to handle it.

“So what are you going to do about it?” he asked.

A cheeky grin broke out on Sansa’s face. “Are you really asking me about my intentions with boys?”

Robb grimaced and she laughed. “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d actually encourage me. I guess that’s what all those mysterious trips out of the room were about when it’s just been the three of us.”

He should have known that he wouldn’t be able to pull the wool over her eyes. Jon yes, but Sansa - not a chance.

“You seem more open to him and the gods know, he’s been into you for long enough. I thought it was time I encourage you into a seeing a decent guy, not one of those deadbeat losers you’ve had around you.”

Robb regretted the words as soon as they are out of his mouth and Sansa’s face fell. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ he thought.

She untucked her hair from behind her right ear and letting it drop so it blocked his view of her face. “Yes, well, Jon’s a good guy all round. I think it’s better if I leave him alone,” she said as she began to rise from the sofa.

He put his hand on her shoulder, pushing her back down, which made her turn to face him. “Don’t do that, Sansa. Don’t make out that he’s too good for you because it’s not true. You deserve someone like him, someone who won’t make you cry or put shadows in your eyes.”

The surprise on her face was genuine, not like the feigned expression she had used on him earlier. “Believe it or not, I want to see you happy and I know that Jon is the type of man who could make you happy.”

“Brave and gentle and strong,” she muttered so quietly that he leant forward to catch it.

“What?”

Startling, she looked up at him. “Nothing,” she said quickly. “Just something dad said to me once but I was too stupid to listen.”

Robb had the urge to pry once more, to find out exactly what has been going on but something gnawed at him, which made him hesitate and swallow back the question. _Do you really want to know?_ he asked himself. _What are you going to be able to do with the information?_

Instead he settled for concentrating on the present. “I meant it. He’s a good guy and you could do a lot worse, but always remember that he’d be lucky to have you.”

He was taken aback when she launched herself into his arms, her head burrowing under his chin. She hadn’t hugged him like this since she was a little girl and they would play knights and maidens in the godswood and he swing her up and carry out in a dramatic rescue.

“So I have your blessing,” she whispered into his neck, a hint of mischief in her voice.

“For what it’s worth,” he said wryly.

She kissed his cheek and beamed at him, a smile so reminiscent of the old Sansa that his heart lightened.

\---------

Arya stopped, her hand going out to grasp Nymeria by her collar as she spotted the pair entwined by the Heart Tree.

It had been a couple of days since Robb had admitted that he was trying to match-make Sansa and Jon and she’d taken that time to observe them herself. The conclusions she had drawn were that Robb was right – for once! They were stupidly in love with each other, but so sure that the other person wasn’t into them that they just pined from afar.

So she had decided to help her brother out and between them they’d laid several stratagems to get Sansa and Jon to admit their feelings for each other including locking them in the glass gardens together.

It seemed that all that time spent together had nudged them in the right direction if the determined kissing she was accidently spying on was any indication.

“Come on,” she whispered to Nymeria. “Let’s go and tell Robb the good news and if they haven’t pried their lips off each other soon, then we’ll Rickon out to throw mud at them.”

Her wolf looked up at her and Arya was sure there was a grin on her face, too.

 

 

 

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets an offer she really wants to accept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of [chapter 18](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1561523/chapters/11382742)

Sansa ended the call with a pensive look. Her agent had called her with an intriguing offer but she wasn’t sure Jon would go for it.

Wandering out into the garden, she found him in the greenhouse, carefully tending to the grape vine that crept along the spine of the greenhouse ceiling. He was pinching tender new leaves off and placing them carefully into a straw woven basket. Sansa wasn’t sure she would ever get over how this rough looking man handled food so delicately. If anyone had asked her seven years ago, just before that fateful Great British Bake Off season, what she thought of men with beards and long hair who wore a lot of flannel, she would’ve wrinkled her nose. However, Jon had burst into her life with his sublime baking skills and even better skills in the bedroom and she hadn’t looked back since.

“Hey,” she said by way of greeting. “What you doing?”

“Arianne Martell gave me this great recipe for stuffed vine leaves. I’m going to try it out and see if Sam and I can use it on our show at some point.”

Like her, Jon had left his cooking show a winner who had made a living as TV chef ever since. He and Samwell Tarly were an unlikely duo for cooking show hosts; Jon with his rugged outdoorsy good looks and Sam with his sweet earnest love of good food, but they worked. They had a gimmick where they travelled around the country and introduced the British public not only to good local British dishes but also the food that had been brought to the country through immigration. It was a massive success.

“When do you and Sam go on the road again?” she asked.

“Not until September. We’re doing an autumn special this time.”

Since the Great British Bake Off had finished four years ago, Jon and Sansa usually tried to keep their summers clear. Their jobs often meant they were away from home, either travelling through other countries or in Jon’s case on the road in the UK. They at least liked to spend the summer months together, which is why she wasn’t sure Jon would buy the proposal.

“Randa called me.”

“Yeah?” he asked interestedly. “Where does she want to send you this time?”

“Actually she has a proposal from the BBC for us.”

He stopped picking vine leaves then and looked at her curiously. “What do they want us to do this time?”

Lots of shows had been pitched to them since they’d married five years ago. Lots of TV execs wanted to cash in on the cutesy appeal of a cooking couple, but nothing as yet had appealed to either of them. However, she wanted this and she was nervous in case Jon saw it as taking a step back.

“They want to revive the Great British Bake Off and they want us to host it. Obviously, Randa is desperate for us to do it. She reckons the public would love it. A return to where we first met.”

“What do you think?” he asked, his face showing no sign of what he was thinking.

She bit her lip. “I think this one would work. The emphasis would be more with the contestants than our relationship and I always enjoyed the atmosphere in the tent.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a nice competition. Not cut throat like so many of them are.”

Jon put the half-filled basket down, walked over to her and snaked his arm around her waist. “I agree. I think this is the one we’ve been holding out for.”

She beamed at him and pressed a smacking kiss on his lips.

“But only if they get Sue and Mel back,” Jon said.

“Duh!” Sansa exclaimed. “You can’t have the Bake Off without Mel and Sue!”

“Bring on the innuendo.”

 

 


	26. Spies AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa finds herself holed up with the enigmatic Lord Commander. It could be worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @tesadoraofphaedra asked me for Jon x Sansa + spies and I'll always write for Cata!!

Sansa still wasn’t sure just how she’d ended up in this position. How the Silent Sisters had managed to get themselves into such a pickle with the Black Brothers.

Someone had to be messing with them.

No one hired both of Westeros’ most deadly spy rings to do the same job but somehow that’s what had happened here. Granted it was to bring the Lannisters down – something her father and brother had died doing when they had both headed the now defunct Deadly Direwolves – but somehow it seemed a little off. It was the kind of overkill that was designed to bring an end to the last two remaining spy organisations working out of Westeros. And that’s precisely what was on the verge of happening. Sansa, usually so good at working on her own and covering her tracks, had tripped a perimeter alarm set by someone in the Black Brothers. Now Lannister security men were crawling all over the building and she was struggling to find an exit.

“Queenmaker?” Sansa whispered quietly into her headpiece. She hoped Arianne was still connected. “Can you hear me?”

“I’m here, Little Bird.”

“What’s my status?”

“I’m not going to lie. It’s not looking good. There’s Lannister men in front and behind you. I think you’re going to need to lay low for a while.”

“Where?” she hissed frantically.

All she could see was a long corridor with offices coming off either side of her. Those would be the first places checked.

“There’s a cleaning closet coming up on your left. It should be five doors down,” Arianne said.

Counting the doors, Sansa gave a little prayer to the old gods and the new as she eased the door handle down. Thankfully, Arianne was right and Sansa darted into the janitor’s closet and bumped straight into the solid form of someone.

“Oof,” the person exclaimed in surprise before they grabbed hold of her wrist with a deft quickness that screamed Black Brother.

Tensing her arm, Sansa was about to pull back and ask just what he thought he was doing when he said, “Quick. There’s a bank of filing cabinets at the back here. It’s a tight fit behind them but it should keep us safe from any prying eyes.”

Bristling at his high handedness, Sansa had to tamp down her desire to stick her nose in the air and tell him just where he could stick his hiding place, but she could already hear the static crackle of radios belonging to the Lannister security team. She’d rather take her chances with the Black Brothers than the Lannisters.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see the outline of curls that crowned his head and what looked like soft slightly pouty lips and long eyelashes. From what she could make out, he was handsome.

“Which one are you?” Sansa asked once they had squeezed in the tight space. She could feel his heat all down the side of her.

“The Lord Commander,” he replied. Her eyebrows rose at that. The Lord Commander was infamous. The youngest ever head of the Black Brothers, he’d only just survived an attempted assassination from within in his own men for his unorthodox and pioneering ways. “You?” he asked.

“Little Bird,” she replied.

“It’s good to know I have the Sisters’ finest alongside me,” he said admiringly.

She couldn’t help but grin that the head of their rival spy ring thought she was the best. Arianne and Margaery would spit teeth if they heard that.

He jostled into her as he attempted to try and stretch his arms out. “Sorry,” he grunted. “I’m not in the most comfortable position.”

“Can I move to help you?”

“Yeah, if you could-” he started to say before he trailed off in some confusion. “No, don’t worry it doesn’t matter.”

“If you get cramp and cry out then the Lannisters will find us,” she said with some exasperation.

There was a long pause of silence before he said, “I’m all hunched up. It would help if I could stretch my arm around the back of you.”

She gave a snort of amusement. “So basically you need to cuddle?”

“Yes…No!” he exclaimed, clearly embarrassed. “I guess, sort of.”

“Put your arm around me then,” Sansa said teasingly. “We are in the back row after all.”

He tugged her into his side, where she could feel just how toned his muscles were, and slid his arm around her. “Sorry,” he repeated.

Before she could reply, the hinge of the closet creaked as the door opened slowly. A torch beam swung crazily around the room, hitting the wall above their heads. Sansa couldn’t help but tuck her head under the Lord Commander’s chin and curl into him, as if that would somehow make them harder to find. His arm tightened around her and she could feel his warm breath tickling the hairs on the top of her head.

“No one in here,” a gruff guard said. “Tell the Mountain the floor’s all clear.”

“He ain’t going to be happy. They have to be here somewhere.”

“Yeah, well, he can come and check the floor again if he don’t believe us,” the first guard said, slamming the door behind him.

Sansa’s breath huffed out in a relieved sigh. She hadn’t even realised she been holding it.

“Reckon we’re going to have to hole up here for a little longer,” the Lord Commander said.

She snuggled closer into his firm body, relishing just how nicely it compared to her own curves. “That sounds like a hardship.”

She felt his smile against her hair. “Whatever are we going to do?” he asked.

“Oh, I think I can think of a few things,” she said boldy, tipping her head up and pressing her lips against his.


	27. Mulan AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon still doesn't understand just how Robb talked him into this but he here is, dressed up as Princess Jasmine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anon on tumblr asked for a Jon/Sansa Mulan AU. As I struggle to see Sansa in a Mulan-esque adventure, I decided to go the other way and have Jon disguised as a lady.

Jon still wasn’t even sure just why or even how he was here. This was the problem of being friends with Robb Stark – he could talk you into doing anything and so here Jon was.

Dressed as Princess Jasmine at a Disney Princess themed bachelorette party.

Apparently Robb wanted to play a prank on his sister, which had seemed vague and strange when Jon had pressed him for details. But then Jeyne had walked in and been roped into the ploy, which led to Jon having his beard shaved off, dressed in a filmy costume with a stuffed bra, and introduced as a cousin of Jeyne’s from Essos. He rolled his shoulders to try and shift the uncomfortable wire that was digging into his chest. How did girls wear these things every day?

What was worse was that Sansa was dressed in prettiest and most alluring Ariel costume and it was all he could not to follow her around staring. He’d had a crush on her for at least a year now, but had never quite managed to work up the courage to ask her out. He’d always thought that she was way out of his league and ten months ago, she would never have looked twice at him. But then her relationship with Joffrey Baratheon had crashed and burned in the most spectacular way, and the Sansa who had come out the other side was less concerned with status and standing. However, it wasn’t like he could ask her out whilst wearing harem pants.

Why could he never say no to pleading Tully blue eyes?

At least the party was winding down now and he would be able to go home, rip this stupid stuffed bra off and work on stopping being so pathetic over Sansa Stark.

Then Sansa smiled sweetly at him and asked if he could stay behind and help her clean up. “Jeyne is dead on her feet and I know the other girls – they’ll want to go out clubbing.”

“You don’t want to join them?” Jon asked quietly. He’d been at pains to speak as little as possible, going for a shy vibe.

“Meh,” she said with a shrug. “They’re going to Jaime Lannister’s club. It doesn’t have such good associations for me.”

Reaching out a hand, Jon patted hers lightly in unspoken support. Both he and Robb suspected that Joffrey had been violent towards Sansa at the end, but she had refused to talk about it when Robb asked.

As if to corroborate her statement, Margaery Tyrell came over, breezy and confident as Belle, and said, “If you change your mind, San, you know where to find us.”

“I think I’ll have my hands full here.”

“Up to you,” Margaery said with a polite ways in Jon’s direction.

The girls soon filed out with shouted thanks and hugs and Jon was left alone with Sansa.

Turning towards him with a big grin on her face, Sansa’s fingers tangled themselves in the filmy material that covered the lower part of his face and pulled it down. She shook her head slightly and said in amusement, “My brother is a sneaky person. Just how did he get you to wear that?”

Gasping for some dignity, Jon asked, “You know it’s me?”

“From the moment you walked in. You might have your abs hidden away, but I’d know those shoulders anywhere.”

Trying not to analyse her words too much, sure that they didn’t mean anything, Jon answered her original question. “He made some vague allusions to wanting to play a prank on you and batted his big blue eyes basically.”

Sansa giggled in delight. “So he didn’t tell you that he’s been trying to convince me to go out on several dates for a few months now.”

Jon’s heart sank a little at the thought of Robb match-making. He hadn’t mentioned anything to Jon, which obviously meant that he didn’t think his best friend was good enough for his sister. “No.”

“To get him off my back, I told him that I would only go on a date if the guy had the guts to wear a princess costume.”

“What?!” Jon asked confused.

“Yeah. I’m done with toxic masculinity. My new test is being comfortable in your own skin and not looking down on women. However, as you can dress up as Princess Jasmine with no problems – you want to get dinner tomorrow?”

Still blinking in shock, Jon stared at her for a moment, confused just as to how derailed this whole night had gone. “You mean this was Robb trying to set us up?”

“I might have mentioned how attractive I found your arms and hair to him several times.”

“That bastard!” he exclaimed as the realisation sank in that the prank had been played on _him._ However, he wasn’t going to dwell too much on that. Not when Sansa Stark was in front of him and confessing that she found him attractive. “Yes, I’d love to go for dinner with you.”

“So?” she asked, trailing the silky material she had stolen from his costume across his shoulders. “Going to perform the Dance of the Seven Veils for me?”

 


	28. Runaway Bride AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's starts off as an accident but Jon ends up being Sansa's go to wedding getaway driver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This a tumblr prompt fill for a runaway bride AU - I went with a general runaway bride theme rather than the film AU.

**One**

The first time Jon aids and abets Sansa escaping her wedding, he is more of a tag-a-long than actual accomplice.

He and Robb have just driven up the church a little late, mainly because Robb had needed to stop at a nearby bar for a quick shot or two to give him the strength to get through Sansa’s wedding. Jon doesn’t blame him – Joffrey Baratheon is a little shit and the prospect of having him as a brother-in-law is enough to drive any sane person to drink.

As Jon parks up the car around the back (the front is to be kept clear so the King’s Landing masses could celebrate Joffrey’s wedding apparently), a side door flies open and Sansa is sprinting towards them, frothy white skirts hitched up around her thighs.  For a split second, Jon thinks she is coming out to harangue Robb for being slightly late for his usher duties (there are one or two guest milling around already), but then she flings open the backdoor, scrambles in and screams, “Drive! Drive!” at the top of her voice.

Leaving Robb to turn around and stare in amazement at his sister’s conduct, Jon guns the engine into life, spins the car around and speeds out the carpark.

“Wha-,” Robb starts to ask, but Sansa has tears streaming down her face and he passes her a tissue instead.

“I couldn’t do it,” Sansa finally whispers, five miles later. “He’s been so vile during the build up to the wedding and the thought of spending the rest of my life with him scared me.”

“Good,” Robb says firmly. “I’ve always hated that little shit.”

Looking in his rear-view mirror, Jon sees Sansa smile weakly at her brother and ask if he could phone Ned and Catelyn to cancel the wedding. Robb grimaces slightly, but Jon knows it’s not because he doesn’t want to help his sister out, but more due to sympathy for his mum and dad having to deal with Cersei and Joffrey when breaking the news.

As Robb pulls out his mobile, Sansa catches Jon’s eye and mouths a thank you. Not really knowing what to do, he just nods.

\------------

**Two**

The second time Jon helps Sansa escape, she’s already waiting for him, her head peeking around the corner of a different side door of a different church. Robb isn’t with him this time – already in the church with his wife, Jeyne, helping organise the mountain of flowers the Tyrells apparently need to have at all their weddings. So, this time it is _him_ she’s waiting for and his heart does a funny little jump at the thought but he squishes it down as she glides across the carpark as quickly as she can in her sleek wedding dress.  He doesn’t even both turning his engine off, just leans over to open the passenger seat.

“Drive, please!” she says, calmly this time.

He cannot help but turn his head towards her as he drives out of the Highgarden private chapel and into the Reach countryside, automatically heading north. There is none of the panic that accompanied her previous flight. Instead, she just looks sad.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Not really,” she replies. “I just realised that I would be so far away from home and that I didn’t want to be.”

“Need me to call your parents?”

“No. I can’t leave up to mum or dad this time. I need speak to Willas myself. It’s not fair otherwise.”

Jon tries to close out the conversation, but it’s impossible when he’s curious about why she’s ditched Willas Tyrell at the altar. Everyone had been thrilled when they had gotten engaged. Willas is the polar opposite to Joffrey Baratheon; calm, kind and decent. Their marriage is sure to be a success. Except that listening to Sansa, it seems that the prospect of a nice but slightly dull man and a pile of puppies is not enticement enough for her to live so far from Winterfell. Jon tries not to rejoice and definitely does not examine just why he is smiling all of a sudden.

\---------

**Three**

The third time Jon rescues Sansa, he’s not even invited to the wedding. Instead, he’s blocking out all thought of her getting married with a mountain climbing break with Tormund, Grenn and Pyp. He doesn’t allow himself to analyse just why he’s chosen the Mountains of the Moon for a break when the Frost Fangs would have been more convenient for everyone involved.

They are just about to start out for strenuous hike, even Tormund being tactful about just why Jon is scowling for once, when his phone rings.

It’s only about three hours until the wedding, so Jon frowns a little when Sansa’s picture comes up on his screen.

Leaning over his shoulder, Tormund sees and snorts. “Looks like Snow is going to bail. It appears he has a bride to save.”

Shushing him, Jon answers. He’s already walking back to his car, but that doesn’t mean anything. Not really. He’d do this for any of his friends.

_Yeah, but your heart wouldn’t sing if Alys called off her wedding and called you to come and get her_ , a little voice in his head says traitorously.

“Jon?” Sansa says in a small, subdued voice. “Can you come and get me?”

He slides into his seat and turns the engine on, “I’m already on my way. Where are you exactly?”

When he gets to the Gates of the Moon, Sansa isn’t in a wedding dress this time, just a pair of jeans and a hoodie pulled over her brown hair. As she climbs into the passenger seat, he can see that her eyes are red rimmed and swollen and he takes his hand off the gearstick to squeeze hers.

“Hey,” he says. “If the thought of marrying him makes you cry then you’re doing the right thing.”

Sansa smiles wanly and replies, “I know. I just wonder if I’m ever going to get it right.”

“You will and when you do you’ll know.”

“I really thought Harry was the one, but as I was trying to sleep last night I realised that he doesn’t even know who Sansa is. Not the real me, anyway.”

“Does that mean the red hair is coming back?”

She gives a more genuine smile at that. “Yes.”

“Good. I much prefer your hair red.”

\------------

**\+ 1**

Jon brings the car into the main courtyard of Winterfell himself. Sansa is leaning on Robb’s arm, confetti in her auburn hair and the train of her lace wedding dress caught up over her arm.

“It’s a tradition,” he says when Sansa asks he didn’t let Robb or Theon do it. “I always drive you away from your weddings.”

“But this time I actually got married.”

Grinning, Jon leans in to kiss her soundly, ignoring the jeers and catcalls from the wedding guests who watch on. “Aye, this time you did, Mrs Snow,” he says when they break apart.

“Mrs Stark,” Sansa says teasingly. “I’m keeping my name.”


	29. Let Him Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A marriage between Daenerys and her heir and nephew, Jon Snow, would strengthen House Targaryen and her reign. If only Jon could come to see that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for this prompt: jon refuses the proposal in marriage of the Queen of seven kingdoms and said he wanted to return to the North to serve with his cousin the Queen of the North then daenerys told jon that she would like to know the secret of stark girls on the targaryen boys.
> 
> So I didn't work in all the points of the prompt but I hope you like it anyway!

Dany watched as Jon moped in the corner of the Throne Room, looking for all the world as if he wished to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Sighing, she dismissed her court for the day, and slowly descended from the Iron Throne, her mind preoccupied with her nephew and just what to do with him.

For a Crown Prince, he wasn’t the most prepossessing sight, often fanning himself, pulling at his clothes and complaining about the heat. Courtiers had mockingly nicknamed him the Ice Dragon. Then there was the fact that he was more often than not found down in the slums of Flea Bottom or overseeing the reconstruction of the city, which made him wildly popular with the smallfolk but not so much with the Small Council. He was only ever dragged into official crown business when Dany insisted it of him.

All of which made him a less than stellar prospect of royal consort.

However, she couldn’t let go of the idea that it was something that was expected of them. That their Targaryen lineage demanded they marry each other and rebuild their house. Her Small Council also expected it. Lord Tyrion brought up the wedding plans on a weekly basis. Through his frugal measures, the royal treasury was steadily being built up into something worthy of a queen. It currently had enough to support the expenses of a royal wedding and, as her Hand was ready to point out, the smallfolk loved the distraction of a royal wedding.

But Jon steadily refused to countenance it.

Her nephew gave no reason for such behaviour, but she wondered if it was because he had been raised as a Stark. Targaryen marriages were hard to stomach for those who had not been born into believing them right. She had thought this until she had looked into the Stark family tree and saw that such marriages were not uncommon in House Stark.

Following Jon out of the Throne Room and into the library, which was now housed in the Maidenvault, a much better use for that section of the Red Keep than her ancestor Baelor the Blessed had chosen for it.

“Jon,” she called out. He halted, squared his shoulders a little and turned to face her. “We need to talk about this marriage.”

“There is no marriage, Dany. I would be a terrible prince consort and you know it.”

Pushing down her irritation at his constant opposition to her desire to pull him further into the royal family, Dany said, “But we owe it to our lineage to try.” He shuddered at her words and stung by this reaction, she snapped out, “You cannot tell me that it is Targaryen marriages you object to. Have you even looked at the Stark family tree? Both Serena and Sansa Stark married their uncles.”

Jon paled at her words and, with an anguished look at Dany and an unintelligible muttered sentence, he fled.

Deflating at his reaction, Dany slumped into a chair at a nearby large table. She was pushing hard for this marriage she knew, but it was expected of them and she had been raised to do what was expected of her. It was for the best of House Targaryen and their rule of Westeros and she struggled to understand just why Jon was being so stubborn.

“Your Majesty,” a quiet voice said to the left of her. Turning, she saw her royal librarian, Samwell Tarly, creep out from between two stacks. “Mayhaps I can give you some insight?”

She tilted her head in interest. If there was anyone in King’s Landing who could help her understand her contrary nephew then it would be Sam. “Please do, Lord Tarly.”

“Jon is opposed to your proposed marriage because he is in love.”

“In love?”

If that was the case then Dany could understand his objections although she was confused as to why Jon just did not tell her. She was not a monster and she had no wish to force a marriage onto Jon when he had feelings for someone else.

“With Sansa Stark. That’s why your mention of another Sansa Stark caused him to flee. He desires nothing more than to return to the North.”

Her mind went blank for a moment and then she let out a small giggle which grew into uncontrollable laughter the more she thought about Sam’s words. Of course he was in love with his Stark cousin. Apparently it was the curse of Targaryen princes to fall in love with Stark women. Her own brother had done the same after all and lost his life for it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, once she had control of herself. “But why did he not tell me?”

“I think he thought you might forbid it.”

“Forbid it? Why?”

“I think he thought you were rather attached to the idea of strengthening House Targaryen with your marriage instead.”

Giving a little nod, Dany could see why Jon might have thought this, but it wasn’t as if a marriage between her heir and the eldest daughter of House Stark did not have its advantages. Her realm needed to be united and brought together. Dragons could not achieve this but marriage could.

“I thank you for you candour, Lord Tarly,” she said, rising from the table. “I think it is time my nephew and I were frank with each other.

\-------------

A year later, and Daenerys watched as Lord and Lady Whitestark made their bow to her. Jon had hotfooted it out of King’s Landing as soon as he’d had her blessing to go and marry Sansa Stark. Dany had asked if he would like her to legitimise him as a Targaryen, but he had refused and asked instead if he and Sansa could make a new cadet branch of House Stark. It had stung a little that he rejected his Targaryen heritage so firmly, but she could understand why. Jon had been raised for all intents and purposes as a Stark and he wished to remain that way. So, she had approved plans sent down from Winterfell by Lord Bran Stark, for Jon and Sansa to be the founders of House Whitestark.

Watching as her nephew grinned at something Sansa said to him, Dany could not but approve of the marriage. She had never seen Jon look so blissful and after all they had done to secure Westeros from the Others, she felt that he deserved such joy.

Then again, as her eyes caught those of her own betrothed, Edric Dayne, she was never happier that her original plans to marry Jon had fallen apart.


	30. It's a Strange Strange World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya cannot get her head around Jon and Sansa's new dynamic. It's just weird!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: The remaining Starks return to winterfell after everything is over. Jon and Sansa are in love with each other even if they don't admit it. Arya and Bran don't know how to react. Even if he is now their cousin, it is weird to see Sansa and Jon so close.

At first Arya had just thought it was only her who found the whole situation strange but then she caught Bran’s discrete eye roll as Sansa giggled as she held up a forkful of lemon cake for Jon to eat, with a coaxing, “Just try it, Jon. You ate it once _ten years_ ago and decided you didn’t like it.”

Grabbing her cup of iced honey milk, Arya slumped into the seat next to Bran’s. “It’s weird right?” she asked with a pointed look at Sansa and Jon.

“It takes some getting used to.”

Arya had been the last Stark to return home. The news from the North about Jon and Sansa reclaiming Winterfell for the Starks had reached Braavos late. Then she’d returned via the Riverlands where she’d picked up Nymeria and her large wolf pack on her way, and laid waste to the Twins on her route home. Bran and Rickon had already come home. Rickon saw nothing wrong in the way Jon and Sansa behaved with each other, but then again he didn’t remember Jon ever being their brother either.

Bran had kept his cards closer to his chest so this was the first time Arya had seen any reaction from him to the playful flirting that somehow existed between Sansa and Jon.

Leaning close to her brother, Arya murmured, “Are they lovers?”

Bran shot her a horrified look. “Why would I know that? Why would I _even_ want to know that?”

Unfazed, Arya shrugged. “You are Lord Stark. I thought they might have come to you with a betrothal request or something.”

They acted like they were on the verge of being betrothed so Arya didn’t think her question was unwarranted. She’d also overheard Alys twitting her brother, Harrion, about his doe eyes towards Sansa. According to Alys, it was fully expected by the Northern lords that Jon and Sansa would wed and strength the new House Whitestark by tying them even more intimately to House Stark and Winterfell.

Sighing, Bran said, “Lyanna tells me I should just get used to it. That a marriage between them is going to happen sooner or later and that it has the support of Queen Daenerys.”

“ _Lyanna,_ huh?!” Arya teased slyly.

“Shut up!” Bran said, flushing.

She couldn’t help grinning at the thought of her little brother having a crush on the fierce little Mormont from Bear Island. Then Arya caught sight of the scene playing out to the right of Bran, where Jon apparently now an aficionado of lemon cake had finished a slice and Sansa was wiping at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

“You had some crumbs,” Sansa teased.

Jon blushed redder than Bran had and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly whilst looking adoringly at Sansa from under his lashes.

They were _definitely_ getting married.


	31. Which Cloak is the Right Cloak?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Tormund is confused over Jon and Sansa’s marital status.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw this [post](http://aliceofalonso.tumblr.com/post/147419585923/ive-watched-that-jon-sansa-fireside-chat-scene) from @aliceofalonso and basically this happened.

Tormund looked askance as Snow and his woman pushed each other towards the door to the Lord’s chambers, both insisting the other one take it. He did not understand what all the fuss was about. Was this some kind of strange Kneeler tradition where you pretended that you did not fuck because it was not seemly? He had always known the Kneelers were a bunch of mealy mouthed prudes but this was taking it a step too far.

“Is this argument ever going to end?” Tormund grumbled. “It’s not as if you won’t both be sleeping in there.”

“What?” Lady Sansa said, cutting off whatever impassioned speech she was making to implore Snow to take the chambers to whirl around to face him. Her hand stayed resting on Snow’s chest though, Tormund noted.

“Why would you think that?” Snow asked.

“Why would you not sleep together? She’s your woman, right? She presented you with a cloak and you gave her one back. That’s how Kneelers get married.”

Lady Sansa blushed a bright red and Snow turned paler than his direwolf. They both just stared at him and the only sound was a muffled snort behind him.

He turned to see Podrick Payne stuffing a hand in his mouth as he choked back his laughs. Brienne put a restraining hand on her squire’s shoulder before obviously taking pity on the stunned Lady Sansa and Snow.

“That’s not quite what happens in a marriage south of the Wall,” she said in a matter of fact voice. Only the glimmer of amusement in her beautiful blue eyes gave away how funny she found the situation.

“It’s not? But Mance said that Kneeler lords and ladies give each other cloaks when they get married,” Tormund said confused.

Podrick wheezed as he tried to contain his laughter. “You alright there lad?” Tormund asked. “Get any more purple and you’ll be in danger of dying.”

Ignoring his dig at her squire, Brienne said, “Those are special kind of cloaks, with the sigil of house on them.”

“So not a cloak to keep you warm in winter?” Tormund asked, pointing at the warm fur cloak that Lady Sansa had made for Snow.

“No!” Lady Sansa interjected hotly, her cheeks still red in embarrassment.

“That cloak is more practical though, right Snow? Who wants some fancy cloak with a pretty picture on the back when you can have something that will stop your bollocks from getting frostbite?”

Lady Sansa turned her face away whilst Brienne eyebrows rose at his crude language. He mentally shrugged, the lady knight was a beauty with rare strength, but he wasn’t going to beautify his words to suit her Kneeler ways.

“I still do not understand why this argument is occurring. The walls of Winterfell might have warm springs running through them but the Long Night is coming and a shared bed must be welcome. I know I’d gladly share my pallet,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Brienne.

“Lady Sansa must take the chamber,” Snow said, ignoring Tormund completely. “She is the Stark in Winterfell.”

And like that the argument recommenced.

 

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa lets her internal nickname for Jon slip!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this post](http://rumaan.tumblr.com/post/147710266596/thatgirlnevershutsup-game-of-thrones-show) by @thatgirlnevershutsup which is adorable!

“You in here, Kitten?” Sansa asks, opening the door that leads into the library tower. She is so focused on her task to hunt Jon down that she does not even notice what she said.

“Kitten?” Jon replies, poking his head over the railing separates the open twisting spiral staircase from the stacks of books and scrolls.

Well, what used to be stacks of books and scrolls.  Ever since Joffrey’s padfoot had burnt the library tower down in his attempt to assassinate Bran all those years ago, the library has mainly been a shell of a tower with barely anything in it. However, a wagon of books had been sent north by Jon’s friend Samwell Tarly, who had found a cache of books about House Stark and the North in Oldtown and decided to ‘liberate’ them from the Maesters. Jon has steadily been organising a system for them. Sansa suspects it is in order to think and keep clear of those bannermen who constantly dog his footsteps, harassing him for answers he could not possibly have.

Blushing, Sansa realises just what it was she had called Jon. She has been mentally calling him that for moons now. It had been unintentional at first. She had heard Maege Mormont abbreviating King in the North for a letter she had been dictating. Turning KITN into kitten had been a fairly easy connection to make.

“Did you really just called me kitten?” Jon asks, coming down the wrought iron staircase and looking at her with amusement glinting in his eyes.

“Yes,” she admits grudgingly but she can’t suppress the small little smile at just how delighted he seems by this. “I can’t help it. King in the North is so long to pronounce and KITN sounds like kitten.”

“I did not realise you needed to call me anything other than Jon.”

“I don’t,” she protests. “Not out loud anyway. It’s just when the men call for the King in the North, I cannot help but mentally say kitten.”

He grins then and she eyes him a little warily. She cannot think he can be pleased by such a name but apparently he is. Jon is full of contradictions like that. Something that would bother other men as disparaging towards their title actually pleases him.

“I have never had a pet name before. Not one that wasn’t just ‘Ned Stark’s bastard’,” he says and her heart breaks a little at that.

“You don’t mind?”

“As long as you keep it between us. I am not sure the Manderlys or Umbers would take me quite as seriously if they heard you call me kitten. But in private, I would not mind.”

The heat in his eyes shows just how much he would not mind and Sansa’s heart pounds a little unsteadily. There it is. The fission of something more than familial that has grown between them incrementally since they took Winterfell back.

“In private then,” she says, allowing her tone to become a little flirty. Something she had actively avoided before the visit from Howland Reed to pledge his allegiance had led to them finding out that Jon was not her brother after all. Since then, her ability to tamp down her flirtatiousness towards him has been a more difficult.

His grin widens and he sways a little towards her, his eyes drifting down to her lips before a gust of wind rips the library door open and they jump guiltily away from each other.

“Your Grace,” Lord Glover says, oblivious to the slight flush on both their cheeks. “A raven has come from the Wall.”


	33. Olympic Gymnast AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon never expected to be called up for the Olympics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amazing jeeno2 sent me this Olympic prompt: Jon x Sansa -- Olympic gymnast AU please! :D

“You’re good,” someone said admiringly behind him and Jon turned to find Sansa Stark, sweetheart of the gymnast team behind him.

He had just dismounted from the rings where he’d been going through his routine over and over again hoping that somehow he’d feel more ready for Rio. He was a surprise call up to the male team because the team’s superstar, Loras Tyrell, has injured himself during a final competition. The male team’s coach, Jaime Lannister, had made no bones about how Jon would never have been called up had the team any other options. So here he was, at the gymnast team’s Olympic training camp and feeling more out of place than he had ever done before.

“You’re the new call up from Castle Black aren’t you?” Sansa asked him, standing confident and assured in the high tech gym.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his shoulders slightly hunched. He’d never trained on such sparkling equipment before. He’d only become so proficient on the rings because he was used to working his routine around trying to avoid the spot where the rubber had worn through the rings in the dilapidated Castle Black gym.

“I’m glad you’re on the team. I’m Sansa. Sansa Stark.”

“Snow. Jon Snow,” he said, shaking her hand and ignoring the snickers he could hear behind him.

Sansa’s eyes looked over his shoulder for a second before her gaze refocused on him. “Don’t let anyone tell you that you shouldn’t be here. Lannister wouldn’t have called you up if you didn’t have what it takes.” He gaped at her a little and she gave him a small smile and added, “I know something about not being welcomed on this team. There is a prejudice against anyone not coming out of the prestigious gyms in the south, but it doesn’t mean anything when you get to the Olympics.”

A warmth rushed through Jon at her words. It was the first time anyone had been welcoming to him since he’d arrived at the training camp. “Thanks, Sansa,” he said and allowed the confidence that the gymnast who’d swept the boards in London 2012 thought he was good enough to hold his spot on the team wash through him.

————–

Jon couldn’t help but stare at the scoreboard in shock as he exited the competing area at the Rio Olympic Arena. Somehow he had managed to pull off the routine of his life and had finished in gold medal position.

“I knew you could do it!” Sansa screamed, running up to him and flinging her arms around him, giving him a smacking kiss on the cheek.

He had no time to do anything other than just to hug her back fiercely before she was being dragged off by a disapproving Olenna Tyrell to continue to get ready for the Women’s Beam final.

“Going to watch Sansa in her final?” Ned Dayne asked, coming up to him and clapping him on the shoulder in congratulations.

Ned had been the kindest person towards him on the male team and they were sharing a room. Jon suspected that Ned knew just how much of a crush he was harbouring on Sansa Stark from just how often he managed to mention her a day.

“Yeah,” he replied gruffly.

“Get your media obligations out of the way then and I’ll save you a space in the stands.”

Of course, Sansa aced her final, claiming the gold medal by a distance. Her routine was a masterpiece of elegance, control, balance and strength, but Jon could only focus on the kiss that she blew to him as she made her way back to the side-lines.

Ned gave him a roguish wink and said, “Shame she has the floor final tomorrow or otherwise you two could have a private celebration of your own.”

“Shut up!” he said, shoving the other man, but he couldn’t help but look towards Sansa, catching her gaze and blowing her a kiss back.

She grinned up at him and mouthed, “Wait for me.”

There was not a chance that he was going anywhere without Sansa that night.


	34. Table Tennis Olympic AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa challenges Jon to match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for this prompt: Table Tennis: Drunk olympic champion (character A) challenges sober character B to a match (you decide what are they betting) - Anon asked for drunk Sansa and she bets a kiss!

“I bet I can beat you at _your_ sport,” a slurred voice came from behind him.

Jon turned to see Sansa Stark standing behind him, her gold medal hanging around her neck and her hands on her hips in a confrontational stance. The only thing other than her voice that gave away just how much she had drunk at the closing ceremony of the Olympics were the twin red spots in her cheeks and the glassy sheen in her eyes.

“Really?” Jon asked amused. “I _am_ a double Olympic champion in table tennis.”

“Pftt,” she said scornfully and tossed her hair behind her. “I am _treble_ Olympic champion.”

“Yeah, at the _high jump_ ,” he pointed out.

“Still bet I can take you at table tennis.”

“So you get kudos in beating an Olympic champion at his own game if you win, but what do I get if I win?”

“A kiss.”

He swallowed his laughter at just how ridiculous the whole conversation was and managed to ask instead, “A kiss with who?”

“With whom,” Sansa corrected primly. “And me of course.”

“Of course,” he replied, shaking his head a little.

Putting her hand out to shake, she asked, “Deal?”

He had no intention of claiming his prize because kissing drunk girls did not feature on his okay things to do list, but he did want to see just how this turned out. “Deal.”

As it turned out, being drunk made Sansa a better table tennis player than when she was sober. He had beaten her many a time in the games room at Winterfell, but this was the closest it had ever been. In the end, Jon got the upper hand, but he had actually had to play to his best.

“Darn it,” she said as she lost but there was a roguish gleam in her eye as if she had planned on this outcome the whole time. “Guess you just have to kiss me now.”

Cupping her face in his hands, he watched as her eyes closed and her lips puckered. He wished she hadn’t apparently needed the liquid courage to do this, that he had realised his feelings had not been unrequited and he could kiss her properly. Instead, he settled on pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Her brow puckered and she opened her eyes and frowned at him grumpily. “That’s not the kind of kiss I wanted.”

Jon smiled warmly at her. “If you still want that kiss then come and see me when you’re sober.”

\---------

Jon groaned, groped for his phone and then blearily stared at the screen. It read 6am and there was no way he was getting up that early when he didn’t have to, especially the morning after the closing ceremony party. Turning over, he pulled a pillow over his head and ignored the knocking on his door.

It didn’t work. Whoever was on the other side was determined. He swore as he pushed the blanket off him and stumbled across the floor to open the door.

“What?” he barked grumpily and then stared as Sansa stood on the other side, her fist still raised.

“You said to come and claim my kiss when I was sober.”

He gaped at her for a good few seconds before he let out a small laugh. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t mean the very moment you were sober.”

“You didn’t specify,” she said as she shouldered him out of the way and walked into the room. “Besides, I promised myself that I wasn’t going to be alone last night.”

Tired, he could do no more than just gawp at her before he spluttered, “You haven’t been to bed?”

“Nuh-uh,” she said, a teasingly smile on her face. “Know anywhere I can crash?”

He might be a little slow before coffee, but he wasn’t that slow. “I might have a spare pillow or two,” he said before grasping one of her hands and towing her towards his bed.

“Not so fast, stud,” she said, digging her heels in and putting her free hand on his chest.

“But-” he protested, confused.

“I still haven’t given you your winnings.”

She leaned forward then and pressed an eager kiss to his mouth, her lips moulding themselves to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm accepting Olympic prompts during the Olympics, feel free to request an Olympic AU at my [tumblr blog](http://rumaan.tumblr.com/ask)


	35. Flags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is meant to be there to support her teammate, but Jon Snow captures her attention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got mixed up between @nixandschnitz and @riahchan Olympic prompts to me and ended up writing this prompt: _I'm on my way to watch my fellow countryfolk compete, and your in the same sport but now I'm low key cheering you in for gold_ for Jon x Sansa instead of a different pairing but as I had it written, I thought I might as well publish it! I will fulfil the other prompts too, ladies!

Sansa was meant to be there to support Harry Hardyng in the long jump. The team tried to get out as much as possible to support their fellow country people, but she wasn’t particularly inspired.

Perhaps it was because Harry was such an arse. A preener who thought he was better than he really was, better than his current position in seventh suggested. He wasn’t.

Or maybe it was because she couldn’t help but be more interested in Jon Snow who was warming up for the 400m final. He wasn’t meant to be there, a surprise contender in the final. He wasn’t even sure he would be competing until the IOC had decided that they would allow an Olympic Refugee Team to compete under the Olympic banner. However, he was and against all the odds with the lack of funding, he had made it through to the final.

It wasn’t like Sansa had gone along to support him, but she had been vaguely aware of the story. Everyone in the Olympic Village was aware of the twenty odd athletes who were competing under the Olympic flag. So, she knew that Jon Snow would be there. This fairy tale story of a boy from a country torn apart by civil war who had somehow managed to get himself into top eight of an Olympic track event. She had even brought along an Olympic flag at the last minute because she and Randa had one pinned to the wall in their flat.

Sitting forward on her seat as the starter called the runners onto the blocks, she held her breath until the starter gun had fired and all the runners got off safely.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Sansa chanted Jon Snow powered through the first 100 metres. He was catching the favourite in the lane in front of him, and the crowd, sensing an upset, was going wild. Down the back straight, he caught the American athlete and sat on his shoulder, allowing himself to be pulled along as they entered top bend.

“Smart,” Sansa said, knowing that it was a good place to be, but she couldn’t resist clutching at Randa’s arm.

“What are you doing?” her roommate asked. “Why are you getting so excited?”

“He’s going to do!” Sansa screamed, getting to her feet as Jon Snow began to power away from the rest of the field down the home straight. “He’s going to do it!”

Flinging her arms up in the air as Jon Snow crossed the line, a look of disbelief on his face as he looked up at the large screen and saw that he had finished first, she screamed in delight along with the rest of the crowd that was packed into the Olympic Stadium.

“Excited are we?” Randa asked with an amused expression on her face. “Although, he is cute.”

“Oh hush,” she said. “It’s not like that. Just how amazing is that story?”

“Seems he’s as shocked as you are.”

Sansa turned her face back towards the track where she could see Jon Snow wandering around looking a little lost as photographers buzzed around him.  He seemed to be looking for something. The second placed American clapped him on the shoulder as he went past with the Stars and Stripes draped around his shoulder and Sansa suddenly realised.

Zipping open her bag, she pulled out the Olympic flag she had stashed there and ran down to front. “Jon!” she yelled, waving the flag frantically in her hand. “Jon Snow! Here!”

An official spotted her and pointed her out to him. He jogged over and took the outstretched flag.

“Thank you,” he said, a grin on his face.

“Congratulations!” she said. “You were amazing.”

Before any more could be said between them, an official was ushering Jon back into the centre of the track, where he now had a flag draped around his shoulders and even more photographers clamouring for a picture of the first medallist from Team Refugee.

\------------

Sansa had tried to forget about her all too brief encounter with Jon Snow. The way the grin had split his face making him look younger and somehow lighter. When they had returned to their room later that night, she had scoured the TV trying to find all interviews with him and had noticed that he appeared serious most of the time. She couldn’t help but smile that the only footage there was of him grinning was when he had taken the flag from her.

Then she’d spent the next couple of days trying to spot him around the large Olympic Village, but with eleven thousand athletes that proved as hard as searching for a needle in a haystack.

“You should have written your room number on the flag,” Randa had teased and Sansa had become so desperate to try and find him that she kind of wished she had.

But she didn’t have too long to dwell on it. Her own final was coming up and passing through the qualification rounds took up all her attention. Then, on the penultimate day of competition, was the 800m final and Sansa had no time to spare a thought for Jon Snow.

Not until after she had crossed the finish line, arms aloft as she realised her four year dream of being Olympic champion. Not until she looked around for her own flag to carrying around the stadium and straight into the grey eyes of Jon Snow who was holding out a flag for her with a grin on her face.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” she said, taking it from him.

“I wanted to return the favour.”

Allowing instinct to take over, she leaned forward, kissed him softly and said, “Make sure you seek me out later to return that, too.”

Ignoring the way the crowd roared their approval, she squeezed his hand and jogged off for her lap of honour.


	36. Flags II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has never been happier as Tokyo 2020 comes around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @riahchan, who asked for media scrutiny on athletes supporting each other. This seemed like a good opportunity to write a second part for Flags.

For Sansa, Tokyo 2020 starts a hell of a lot better for her than Rio 2016 did. Not because she’s still the favourite for her event, the 800 metres, or because she has won everything possible in the last four years, but because she gets to walk into the opening ceremony holding Jon Snow’s hand.

The past four years hasn’t just been a whirlwind on the track, but also off it. The media has been as interested in her love life as well as her athletic exploits due to the high profile relationship she has with Jon. They were a constant at meets, sitting in the stands and cheering each other on when they weren’t competing themselves.

After Rio, Sansa had talked her athletics club into taking on Jon as well. It hadn’t actually been that hard considering the sponsors and media who were attracted to Jon after his success. Having him so close to her for most of the year had allowed their relationship to progress into a happy, healthy and mutually supporting relationship. This, in turn, had led to intense media scrutiny as the press loved nothing more than a golden couple, and with their winning streak on the track and good looks they were definitely that.

Then, just over a year ago they had married and Jon had been given fast-track nationality so he could compete for a country and not the Olympic Refugee Team as he had in Rio.

Now as they walk out under the same flag, the camera crew definitely focuses on them more than anyone else in their team. It is to be expected, the interest in them has never really gone away, but in the build-up towards the next Olympic Games, there has been more attention paid to them. The requests for interviews and magazine spreads has been relentless since the beginning of the year.

But Sansa doesn’t care for any of that. Doesn’t care for their celebrity status, or how invested the world seems in their romance. All she cares is that she and Jon are together.


	37. Olympic Fencing AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's only got an hour until his epis semi final - now is not the time to spill coffee on his fencing jacket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: Fencing: Character A gets coffee on its white uniform, character B helps to clean it up.

“Damn, Damn, Damn!” Jon muttered to himself as he looked helplessly at the splotch of dark coffee on his pristine white fencing jacket. He was due to go out into the Carioca Arena for his semi-final fight in just over an hour’s time and there was no time to find a new jacket.

“Hang on, I can help you out there,” a voice said behind him.

Jon turned to find a beautiful and vaguely familiar redhead watching him with an amused smile on her face.

“You can?” he asked doubtfully.

“Oh, I have had to save lots of my family in many such occasions,” she said, pulling a small plastic bottle out of her bag. “I’m going to need you to take the jacket off.”

Hesitating for a moment, Jon debated whether she could be trusted or not, but with a shrug of his shoulders, he realised that he was going to have to trust her. He certainly had no clue how to rectify this situation and she seemed prepared at least. He removed his jacket and held it out to her.

The redhead gave him a reassuring smile and placed the jacket on the nearest clean flat surface. She pulled a clean cloth out of her handbag and nabbed a bottle of water that had been left on the table next to them. He watched in fascination as she set to work. Five minutes later, he had slightly damp but now clean jacket.

“How did you do that?” he asked in awe.

She grinned and said, “I can’t give away all my trade secrets now can I?”

“Would you let me buy you a coffee to say thank you then?”

Looking pointedly at the clock behind him, she said, “Haven’t you got a final to get into?”

As if to corroborate her words, Sam came rushing over. “There you are, Jon! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Coach Mormont needs you.”

He put his jacket back on regretfully started to walk off before he turned back and said, “Can I get a name at least?”

“Sansa,” she replied with a smile. “Good luck, Jon. I hope you make it into the final.”

It was not until he reached the gold medal match that he realised why Sansa looked so familiar or why she was so prepared for coffee accidents when he looked into the exact same shade of blue eyes on his opponent, Robb Stark. He then remembered that there was one Stark who hadn’t gone into fencing like everyone else in her family and instead played hockey, being good enough to represent her country in the Olympics as her family did in fencing.

Searching the stands, Jon spotted where the legendary Stark family were sitting and sure enough Sansa was there too. Catching her eyes, a warmth spread through his chest as she gave him a little wave. Robb Stark was the World Champion, defending Olympic champion, and ranked number one, but determination to take him all the way flooded through Jon.

 


	38. Olympic AU with Jealous Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon can't help his inconvenient crush on his teammate's little sister. He just wished she was less into Rugby players and more into Track Cyclists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for this prompt: Character B jealous of Character A “appreciation” of the Rugby Olympic team.

“Fancy coming to watch the Rugby Sevens?” Sansa asked, barging into Jon and Grenn’s room without even a knock.

Grenn, who had just dropped his towel, let out a little shriek that was at odds with his bulk and ducked into the bathroom to finish dressing.

“You’re going to the Rugby Sevens today?”

“Have you seen the Rugby players? Of course I’m going there.”

An irrational wave of jealously swept through Jon. He had no right to feel that way. Sansa was the little sister of his sprinting track teammate and best friend, Robb, and recently a somewhat unlikely friend. She had no idea of the monumental crush he had on her. Besides, Sansa had always had a soft spot for Rugby players and had briefly dated Rugby Union sensation, Harry Hardyng, a year or so ago.

“I can’t,” he said, somewhat miserably. “We’re under team orders to stay rested today.”

“The coaches not letting you have any time off before the hard work gets under way tomorrow?”

“Nope,” he said with a grimace. “We have to put in the hard work in before we’re allowed out to play.”

Sansa gave him a sympathetic smile. Her Olympics was over with her swimming medley events being held early in the first week of the Olympics which gave her free reign to party and go to watch whatever events appealed to her for the rest of the Olympics.

“Shame. Guess I’ll go hunt down Margaery and Randa. They are always up to go and objectify some hot men playing with balls,” she said with a wink.

Giving her a little wave, Jon did his best to swallow his jealousy back down. It wasn’t her fault that she saw him as a pseudo older brother. In fact, he liked how Sansa could relax around him. She hadn’t always had the best time with men and she was warier than she let on, but with him there was none of the tightening of her shoulders or tension in her face. She would snuggle up close to him and rest her head on his shoulder. He loved that she could do that with him and she didn’t deserve to have his jealousy ruin that for her. Just because they were friends didn’t mean she was obligated to return his feelings. Besides, he had always known this day would come. That Sansa would be ready to date again and he had tried to prepare himself for it. She deserved to be happy, she deserved all the good things in the world. However, the crushing weight in his chest was proof that nothing could really prepare him for the thought of having to be polite to whoever Sansa dated next.

Flopping back on his bed, Jon put a pillow over his face and ignored Grenn when he came out of the bathroom and clapped him consolingly on the shoulder. But with the Velodrome opening tomorrow, he didn’t have the luxury of remaining down for too long. He, Robb and Grenn had the team sprint final to get ready for and the rest of the day passed in a blur of tactics and resting in their rooms. However, masochist that he was, he did watch some of the Rugby Sevens and spotted Sansa and her friends several times in the stadium, waving flags and blowing kisses whenever a try was scored. She was having a great time and that was a _good_ thing, he reminded himself.

\-----------------

Jon’s heart stuttered as he walked out into the middle of the velodrome on the final night of racing. He was going for his third gold in the men’s keirin, having won both gold in the team and individual sprint races. However, that had nothing to do with his surge of emotion which spiked because sat there next to his mum was Sansa Stark. She had been a fixture in the velodrome over the past couple of nights but Robb had been racing then, too. Yet Robb had finished all his events two nights ago, getting silver behind him in the individual sprint final. If Sansa was here tonight then it was for him and goosebumps broke out on his arms at the realisation that she wasn’t out partying with the Rugby Sevens team, but here in the velodrome for him.

Hope bloomed in his chest and buoyed by the sensation, he used it to push him through the qualifying rounds, which could be notoriously tricky in this event, and into the final where the thought of Sansa cheering for him alone gave his legs that extra speed he needed to sprint around the lead rider and fend off attacks from behind. Yet, it wasn’t until he crossed the line, with his third gold confirmed, that he allowed himself to look for her once more. Slowing his bike down, he stopped by the railings. His mum engulfed him in a massive hug, shouting her congratulations into his ear but he only had eyes for Sansa, who was looking at him with so much pride that he instantly knew his feelings weren’t unrequited. His mum stepped back and Sansa flung herself into his arms.

“You did it!” she said joyfully.

He tightened his arms around her and pulled her in close, lifting her onto her tiptoes. “I did,” he said before he bent his head slightly and kissed her. He could vaguely hear the roar of the raucous crowd in the Velodrome but all his concentration went into how her lips softened and moulded themselves to his.

They finally pulled apart and Sansa said, “For someone so fast on the track, it took you long enough to do that.”

“I didn’t know until tonight that you felt the same.”

“When jealousy didn’t work, I thought I’d give unconditional support a go.”

He grinned at her. “I infinitely prefer unconditional support.”

Sansa’s arms tightened around his neck and she gave him one last fierce kiss before she pushed him away and said, “Go and collect your medal. Now your hard work is over, you can come out and party with me.”

An image of Sansa lying in his bed, naked except for all three of his gold medals hanging between her breasts flashed into his mind and couldn’t help but give her a wolfish grin. “Who wants to go out? I’d rather party with you alone.”

She gave an amused laugh and said, “Down boy! Remember just how tight that Lycra you’re wearing is.”


	39. Home Is Where Autumn Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa misses the changing of the seasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for @riahchan for the prompt: Jon x Sansa - They are traveling or moved to a new place and they are missing the season changes that they are used to.
> 
> In this AU, I have ignored GRRM's magically long seasons. Terros works as Earth does.

Sansa leaned against the open door that lead out to their courtyard. It was another warm day, no sign of autumn even setting in. She lifted the heavy plait of hair that rested hotly against her skin and waved it about, fan like, to see if it could get rid of the sticky sensation of feeling too hot.

It would be autumn right now in Winterfell. The trees of the godswood would be turning into vivid oranges and reds and the mist would roll in over the moors during the late afternoon, turning the sunshine into something eerie and magical. But here in Lys, summer was still holding on strong. The balmy days seemed endless and Sansa had forgotten what it was like to be cold.

When she was young, she had dreamed of summers like this. Where the sun shone strongly and there were no worries about food stores in case the winter that year was particularly hard. She had imagined that life would be easy; carefree and full of songs. And it was true. The Lyseni loved nothing more than to party. The wine always flowed and tables were stocked with abundant platters of fabulous food. Singers found bountiful employment from the wealthy merchants who were always keen to out-do each other’s hospitality.

Young Sansa would have enjoyed every moment, but this older, more jaded Sansa craved nothing more than the feeling of crisp leaves underfoot and warming stews that sat heavy in the stomach and left you feeling full for hours.

Perhaps it was aftermath of the wars she had weathered, but she had no joy anymore in frivolous pursuits. Now, she wanted nothing more than home and her family.

A hand came to rest on her waist. “There you are,” Jon said, turning her around so was engulfed in his arms. His face was flushed from the heat and a sheen of sweat rested on his brow. It was this more than her own longing for home that had her emotions spilling out.

Burying her face in Jon’s chest, she wailed, “I want to go home. I hate this endless summer. I miss autumn and Winterfell. But most of all I miss Ayra and Bran and Rickon.”

“Hey,” he said, tugging gently on her hair so she lifted her face and looked at him. “I thought you liked it here?”

“I thought I would too. I though leaving Westeros and getting away from the destruction and death would be good for me; for us. However, I hate this long summer. It’s never ending and I want to feel cold once more. To curl up close with you under the furs.”

He smiled fondly at her and kissed the tip of her nose. “I have good news for you then, sweetling. As of this morning, my business here for Dany is complete and you just need to say the word and I will arrange passage back to Westeros.”

“Really?!” Sansa exclaimed, her lethargy instantly gone and excitement throbbing through her veins. “Arrange it for as soon as possible, please Jon.”

“I will go to the docks this instant.”

He kissed her sweetly and then turned to leave the villa they had hired for the duration of their stay.

“Oh and Jon,” she said and he spun back to face her. “Charter a ship to White Harbour. I only want to return to the North.”


	40. Checking If They're Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two dark curly haired gladiators leads to a fortunate mishap for Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for @riahchan for the prompt: whoops you’re wearing the same costume as my best friend, i did not mean to hug you and kiss your cheek, where is my friend?? but you are so cute

“SATIN!” Sansa yelled, launching herself onto her friend’s bare back and leaning around to kiss his cheek.

He turned at the same time, revealing a face that did not belong to her friend, and causing their lips to graze each other. Not-Satin had soft lips that were so tempting that she couldn’t help but linger slightly before her brain caught up to her actions and she yelped and jumped back down.

“I’m so sorry,” she said apologetically, realising now that there were apparently two dark and curly haired gladiator’s running around. “I thought you were my friend.”

Non-Satin turned around to face her and she couldn’t help but track her eyes down his bare torso, admiring the muscles on display. Her eyebrows rose at the impressive six-pack and unthinking, she reached out a hand to brush down it.

“Oh God!” she exclaimed, horrified at just how inappropriate she continued to be. “I swear my brain is on holiday tonight. It’s just I had to check if they were painted on or not. I don’t think I’ve ever seen since such a defined six pack.”

Closing her eyes, Sansa wanted the floor to swallow her up. What had happened to the cool and sophisticated girl who usually left boys in an incoherent heap at her feet? She thanked her lucky stars that Margaery was off somewhere else because she would have a field day with how Sansa was currently acting.

The stranger gave a small laugh and said, “Nope. They’re real. Kind of a perk of the job.”

“Model?” she asked. It would make sense considering this was a party thrown by a fashion college – an elite fashion college where they were all expected to go on to big and great things in haute couture.

“Mountain rescue,” he replied.

His answer didn’t clear anything up. What about mountain rescue led to the best six-pack she had ever seen? And why was he at a dorm party for a fashion college Halloween party?

Some of her confusion must have shown on her face because he said, “I was dragged along by some friends. We were in town for a conference and Pyp grew up with Satin and Satin said we should come along tonight.”

A vague recollection of Satin saying that some childhood friends would be dropping by came into Sansa’s mind. That didn’t explain about the muscles, but Sansa decided that was a conversation to have at a more comfortable location.

“Yeah, I remember Satin saying that now. I’m Sansa,” she said, putting her hand out. “Sansa Stark.”

“Jon Snow,” he replied, shaking her hand.

She linked her arm through his and said, “Come on, I’ll show you where the good food and alcohol is. The people who live on this floor have all the gross stuff.”


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has had it with the dog that keeps shitting on her lawn!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the delightful @riahchan for the prompt: Your dog keeps pooping on my lawn AU

To be fair, it wasn’t as if it was down to _him_ that his dog was shitting on her lawn, but Sansa knew he was the actual owner. He walked the dog the most and the dog was definitely more affectionate towards him than any of the others who seemed to walk it periodically. And she noticed that when he did walk the dog there was never any shit on her lawn. He’d lean down and clean it up with a poop bag. However, she was annoyed that occasionally she had to do that.

Maybe if Lady’s death wasn’t still so raw, she’d be able to overlook it. Dogs could be hard work and people who walked dogs as favours didn’t always know what the process entailed. Perhaps, she wouldn’t be quite so angry if Lady was still around. But she wasn’t and Sansa’s patience had worn thin after the little scrawny one who walked the offending dog yesterday hadn’t cleaned up the shit and she’d ended up treading it on her way out.

“You!” she yelled, in a voice that would have definitely raised eyebrows in her family. She was meant to be the ladylike Stark. The one who was unfailingly polite and kind and courteous.

The man stopped, turning to look at her confused, the dog poop bag in his hand.

_Shit_ , Sansa thought. He was hot. She had never actually focused on him. It had always been on the gorgeous husky that he owned. However, she had noticed his hair because it was impossible not to. It looked even more amazing up close. Luxurious and thick but also soft and enticing. She wanted to run her fingers through it.

“Er…me?” the man asked bemused.

“Yes _YOU_! This is your dog right?”

“Yeah, Ghost is mine.”

She tried not to get side-tracked by the name, but she couldn’t help it. He looked like a ghost, all white as he was, and she had never heard him make a noise. “Your dog ruined my suede boots!”

He looked even more confused by this, his brown furrowing and his grey eyes glinting in the soft autumn sunlight. He was unbelievably gorgeous. “Boots? How?”

Shaking her head, she refused to allow herself to get distracted by his good looks and said, “By the fact that he shits on _my_ lawn and not everyone cleans it up! Yesterday it wasn’t cleaned up and I stepped in it!”

“Oh Pyp! I’m going to kill you,” he groaned before he gave her a sheepish and very disarming smile. “I’m so sorry. I work shifts, so it’s not always easy to walk Ghost regularly and he needs a lot of exercise. So my friends fill in for me and I didn’t think to tell them they should clean up after him. I’ll talk to them and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

His frank apology deflated her anger and she was left feeling a little foolish for confronting him so aggressively. “Oh,” she said. “If you could do that, it would be great.”

“Sure,” he said with a delightful grin. “Can I get your boots cleaned for you at least?”

A plan to work this to her advantage formed in her mind. Ghost’s owner was far too hot to let walk away. “I got them cleaned yesterday. You could buy me lunch though.”

“Lunch?” he asked slowly, looking at her keenly.

“I think you owe me,” she said with an innocent air that her family would have immediately distrusted. “So, yeah, lunch. Come and pick me up tomorrow at 1pm.”

He huffed out a surprised laugh and said, “Can I at least get a name?”

“Sansa,” she said. “Sansa Stark.”

“Jon Snow and I’d love to take you to lunch tomorrow.”

“It’s a date,” she said with a grin and an airy wave over her shoulder as she turned to go back inside.

Who’d have thought that much dog shit on her lawn would turn out to be such a good thing?


	42. Hot Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not even a blizzard could keep her away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: you walked here in a blizzard to get your hot chocolate but you forgot your wallet at home, here, let me buy your drink for you

“Oh my God, she’s back,” Sam said, nudging Jon and forcing him to look up from his book that he’d been whiling away the time with. There were no customers due to the blizzard that was raging outside.

Sighing, Jon obliging looked at the tall redhead who Sam had been freaking out about all week. She was Sansa Stark, the latest Stark to become a household name in acting. She had broken through a couple of years ago playing a vulnerable teenage girl held hostage by her family’s enemies. It had been a powerful performance that had critics raving about her and she’d gone from strength to strength as predicted.

She had been in the small café where Sam and Jon worked every day for the past week and apparently even a blizzard wasn’t enough to come between her and her daily hot chocolate.

“Hot chocolate with whipped cream?” Jon queried as she came to the counter.

“Yeah,” she said with a small smile. “Guess I’m predictable.”

“You came out in a blizzard for it.”

“It’s my one daily vice. It keeps me going.”

“Are you filming around here? Don’t they have craft services?”

Her eyebrows raised and she asked, “You recognise me?”

Jon pointed to Sam who was currently had his back to them, making Sansa Stark’s drink. He could tell that his friend was listening intently. “Yeah, Sam’s been freaking out about it all week.”

“Hey!” Sam objected, turning and giving Jon a glare for throwing him under the bus.

“Oh,” She replied and then pointed to all the underground music posters that littered the walls. “I thought I’d managed to fly under the radar here.”

“Yeah, we’re kind of hipster, but not so hipster we don’t recognise acting royalty.”

Sansa pouted a little, obviously put out that she’d been recognised. He tried not to find it adorable but it was.

“Here you go, _Alayne_ ,”Jon said, passing her the drink Sam had given him with a scowl.

“Guess that didn’t fool you, either.”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding at all apologetic.

“Hang on,” she said, rooting through her bag. “I know my purse is in her somewhere.”

Jon watched in increasing amusement as stuff started to get piled up on the counter as the purse was not forthcoming. Then she made it to the bottom of her oversized bag, came up empty handed, and looked up at him confused. “I forgot my purse. I can’t pay for this.”

He couldn’t help the puff of laughter that escaped him.

“It’s not funny!” she said.

“It’s kind of funny,” he replied as he zeroed the transaction.

“What are you doing?”

“Comping your drink.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you want in return?”

“You’ve been working in the acting industry too long. I don’t want anything although an autograph for Sam might be nice. Get him off my pack for ratting him out to you.”

They both turned to where Sam was sulking in the corner, cleaning an already clean table. She smiled and said, “I can do that. And I’ll come back tomorrow with the money for this.”

He waved her suggestion away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks,” she said in a friendly tone and then she went over to Sam.

Jon watched as his friend’s gloomy expression became a smile and Sansa autographed a napkin for him and took a selfie that Jon knew would be the background to Sam’s phone before she’d even left the café. As she walked back out into the blizzard, her eyes met Jon’s and she gave him a wide smile.

The next day, the blizzard had gone but Sansa was back. “Hey,” she said and waved her purse. “I remembered it this time.”

“That’s good to know,” Jon said. “I’ve heard about you actors and handouts.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned.

“So,” she said, looking a little unsure. “I was wondering if I could take you out for a meal as thank you.”

“You want to thank me for a free hot chocolate?”

“That and you’re cute.”

“You’re asking me out on a date?” he asked, confused by the way the conversation was going.

“Trying to,” she said flippantly, “But apparently you want to make this as hard as possible.”

“ _Idiot!_ ” Sam hissed as him as he passed behind, digging his elbow painfully into the small of Jon’s back. “He’d love to go out with you.”

“You sure or does Sam make all the decisions for you?”

“Yeah…No…Yeah, I’d love to,” Jon said, scrambling to catch up.

“Here,” Sam said, passing her another hot chocolate. “I put Jon’s number on it for you.”


	43. Broken Heater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb can't help but meddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the delightful @jeeno for the prompt: the classic huddling together for warmth trope

“Shotgun!” Arya shouted as she ran ahead.

“Hey,” Sansa yelled, “That’s not fair. Both Jon and I are taller than you. Longer legs need more space.”

“Stark family rules. First person to call shotgun, gets to sit in the front.”

“Once the car has been spotted,” Sansa argued.

Arya pointed ahead and Sansa squinted in the winter night air and groaned when she vaguely made out the outline of Robb’s racing green Range Rover. “Ugh,” she muttered, resigning herself to sitting in the back with her legs squashed up to her.

“Heating’s broken,” Robb said with an apologetic shrug as they piled into the car.

Sansa groaned again. Winterfell was a good hour or so drive away from the train station and it was cold!

“Guess you’ll have to snuggle up,” her big brother said, looking over his shoulder and giving Jon and Sansa a smug grin.

Narrowing her eyes at her big brother, Sansa refused to look at Jon and sat away from him, looking out the window into the dark outside.

Ever since she had let slip that she thought Jon was gorgeous one drunken night out with her brother, Robb thought it hilarious to tease her about it. Putting her in awkward positions with Jon.

However, ten minutes into the journey and she was shivering, her teeth chattering with cold.

“Hey,” Jon murmured quietly, drawing her attention away from the window and opening his big puffy jacket. “Come on. It’s big enough for you, too.”

Her annoyance at her brother’s antics wasn’t enough to keep the cold out so she shuffled across the seat and into Jon’s open coat and arms.

He smelt amazing. A hint of cologne – nothing like the overpowering smell that Harry had always been fond of – and the crispness of the outdoors. Closing her eyes as warmth spread out from the side that was pressed tightly into him, she snuggled her cheek into the crook of his neck and relaxed against him.

“Better?” he asked her quietly.

Sansa hummed her approval and settled back to enjoy the rest of the journey home. Maybe Robb wasn’t being the world’s biggest arse at all, but actually being a good big brother. She looked towards Robb and caught his eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“He likes you, too _,_ ” Robb mouthed.

 


	44. Good Snow Deeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa wasn't prepared for the neighbourly act of kindness, didn't meant she wasn't going to take advantage of it though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for lovely @aliceofalonso for the prompt: so you’re the kindly neighbour that shovelled my front walk this morning? you should come round for dinner, i owe you one

Sansa was dreading the walk down her drive that morning. Heavy snow had been forecast overnight and she had meant to get up early and shovel some sort of pathetic tunnel from her front door to the road. But as always in these cases, she’d overslept. Just about had time for a shower and some coffee and was now hesitating at the front door about just how she was going to navigate the short journey from her house to the nicely shovelled sidewalk in heeled boots.

Taking a deep breath, she flung her door open and stopped at the sight that met her eyes. There was no nightmare of an icy, powdery, wet tundra in front of her, but a neatly cleared path. At the bottom of her drive, just before it met the sidewalk, was the handsome neighbour she always tried to spot when she came home. He had a wide snow shovel in his hand.

She hadn’t lived in Queenscrown for very long. She’d only just moved back to the North last summer and she’d been so busy with her work that she hadn’t had much time to meet any of her neighbours especially as she tended to make the short drive to Winterfell on the weekends. So to say she was stunned by this act of neighbourly kindness was an understatement.

Making her way down the mercifully cleared path, she called out, “Thank you so much! I was dreading the obstacle course I was going to have to take this morning.”

He stopped shovelling and turned to face her, his cheeks and ears red – she couldn’t tell from whether from the cold or some sort of embarrassment at being caught doing a good deed.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he replied, his voice quiet but deep.

_Strong,_ she thought, just like the biceps she’d spotted back in the summer when he had worn shirts that showed just how much upper body strength he was packing.

“Mind?” she queried a little playfully. “I’m really grateful. I wanted to get up early this morning to do it. My shovelling wouldn’t be nearly as neat as yours though. I might have given up halfway out, too.”

The red in his cheeks deepened and she suppressed an impish little smile. He thought she was pretty and she was glad that she wasn’t the only one who noticed the other.

“I’m Sansa, by the way,” she said, sticking her hand out for him to shake. “Sansa Stark.”

“Jon. Jon Snow.”

His grip was firm but gentle and she resisted the urge to stroke her fingers over his hand or linger for longer than was polite.

“Can I make you dinner as a thank you?”

“Oh,” he said bashfully. “You don’t have to. I was shovelling Old Nan’s drive for her already.”

“I’d like to,” she said. “I make a mean spaghetti and you must have worked up an appetite after all this hard work.”

Jon choked a little at her words, his mind clearly going somewhere around gutter level, but recovered admirably. “That would be nice. Thanks.”

“Tonight? Seven?”

“Seven sounds great.”

Sansa gave him a breezy wave and a big grin as she stepped out on the sidewalk and made her way to work.


	45. Good Samaritan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is only offering the handsome dog owner hot chocolate out of the goodness of her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @sunbeamandmoonrays asked for this prompt: Can you do the walking dogs in the cold prompt for Jon x Sansa, please.

Sansa had seen him in the dog park yesterday. Blowing into his hands to keep them warm despite the gloves that he wore because it was _that_ cold. He was layered up like she was, but nothing seemed to keep the icy prickles of the wind out or the sting of the snow as it fell softy onto her cheeks. She’d brought a small thermos of hot chocolate to keep both her insides and also hands warm and she had felt bad as she’d watched the handsome stranger with the gorgeous white husky stamp his feet and rub his hands together in a vain attempt to keep warm.

So today she’d brought a large flask with two mugs from home. This way, if he was in the park again, then she’d be able to offer him something warm to clutch.

“If that’s what’s what you’re calling it,” Arya had said with an amused scoff. “Just ask him out. It’s the twenty-first century, girls ask guys out all the time now.”

She’d flushed because maybe she had waxed a little lyrical about his beautiful grey eyes, how his luscious curly dark hair peeked out from under his beanie, and his plump lips that begged for kisses, but that totally wasn’t why she was bringing a second cup with her. She was being a Good Samaritan that was all.

Now, as she walked over to where he chucked a ball for his dog to chase, Lady trotting at her heels, her heart pounded a little. Damn her little sister for making this into a bigger deal that it should be.

“Hey,” she said as she got a couple of metres away from him. “Cold, huh?”

She wanted to bury herself in the snow when she realised just what she’d said. Talk about stating the obvious.

He gave her an amused but slightly awkward look. “Yeah, freezing.”

“This is my least favourite part of owning a dog. Having to walk her in sub-zero temperatures.”

At least that was a more coherent, less pathetic sentence.

“It certainly isn’t the most fun I’ve had with Ghost.”

“Ghost?” she smiled. “That’s an apt name for him.”

“What about your dog?” he asked, his face relaxing a little as the conversation went on.

“Lady. She’s a real little princess, too. If she didn’t need to get outside then she would refuse to come out in the snow. She isn’t a fan.”

Ghost ran back, ball in his mouth and to Sansa’s surprise, Lady left her heels and padded over, sniffing Ghost and getting involved in a playful tussle for the ball.

“Seems like they made friends,” he commented.

“Yeah. By the way, I was wondering if you wanted some hot chocolate,” she said, deciding to dive in and offer. “I brought a spare mug.”

“Really?” he asked, clearly surprised, but a grin widening on his face. “I was so envious of you yesterday. I could almost feel the warmth in my hands.”

Biting back a smile that he had noticed her, too, she said, “It makes this slightly more enjoyable.”

She poured the hot chocolate out into the mugs and he sighed when she handed his over to him, his hands eagerly wrapping around it.

“Please tell me you’re going to be here tomorrow too?” he asked.

“Every day this week,” she said.

“I’ll bring some cake?”

“It’s a date,” she said, giving him an interested look.

He grinned once more, agreed, and returned her look with one of his own.

 

                                                                                                                                                                          


	46. Cleaning Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa never thought she'd have to run to her hot neighbour with a cleaning emergency.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: This is the first time I’m living on my own and my parents decided to spontaneously drop by in a few hours to see how I’m doing pls let me borrow some cleaning supplies and food so that my parents will believe I’m a functioning, responsible adult who totally cleans and doesn’t just have condiments and eggs in my fridge AU

Sansa put the phone down with a horrible sense of dread. Her parents were coming by later day to see her and she wasn’t prepared. She’d planned on inviting them over in a couple of weekends time when she had her shit together, wasn’t dog tired from working all the time, had a clean flat and some actual food in the fridge.

Right now, her flat was in no state for entertaining – let alone her mum and dad, who would worry that she had too much on her plate and couldn’t look after herself properly. They would start sending someone over from Winterfell to clean and cook for her and she really didn’t want that. The whole point of her moving out was to show that she could be independent and that she could survive on her salary and without a home full of staff to cater to her needs. She _had_ to prove that otherwise she was just what Joffrey said she was – nothing but a spoilt little rich girl who cried to mummy and daddy when life got too hard. Which was kind of ironic coming from him – the ultimate mama’s boy.

Looking around at the mess in a panic, Sansa struggled to find a plan. She hadn’t managed to get to a supermarket for a couple of weeks now and she knew that she’d used the last of her cleaning supplies up last weekend.

_Sam_ , she thought in a blinding flash of clarity. Sam would be able to help her.

Tearing out of her flat and skidding to a halt outside a door a little way down the corridor, Sansa pounded on the door. She waited impatiently for a couple of seconds before knocking again.

_Come on, Sam, I need you to be there!_

As if answering her plea, the door swung open, but it wasn’t the nice smile of her kind neighbour Sam who could always be counted on to have some spare milk or a teabag, but his ridiculously hot flatmate. She tended to avoid Jon Snow – going over to Sam’s for cake and tea at a time when she knew Jon wasn’t there. He wasn’t horrible, in fact he was lovely, but Sansa didn’t have time to develop an inconvenient crush right now and she could feel herself appreciating Jon more and more every time she saw him.

To make matters worse, it looked like she had woken him up. He stood there in just a pair of pyjama bottoms with the worst case of bedhead that Sansa had ever seen. Her fingers itched to run themselves through it.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but is Sam in?” she asked a little breathlessly. She put it down to her frantic dash down the corridor, but knew it was the sight of Jon’s ridiculously defined abs.

“No, he’s gone to stay at Gilly’s this weekend.”

“Shit!” she exclaimed blankly.

“Anything I can help you with?”

Indecisively Sansa stared at him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to reveal the mess she was in to the guy she was in denial about having a huge crush on, but she was in a bind and definitely didn’t have time to hit the supermarket and clean.

“I really need to raid your cleaning supplies,” she said embarrassed.

He raised an eyebrow. “You have a cleaning emergency?”

“A really bad one. My parents are going to be here in three hours and the flat is a mess and I don’t even have anything to feed them.”

A slow grin broke out on his face. “I think I can help you with that.”

“You’re a life-saver,” she breathed.

\-----------

Two hours and twenty minutes later, Sansa puffed a sweaty strand of hair out of her face. Her flat looked spotless and was definitely ready to host her parents. The lack of food could be explained away more easily than an empty fridge _and_ a messy flat.

Heading off to the shower, she frowned at the knock on the door. Were her parents early? Grimacing at her clammy skin and grubby clothes, she opened the door to reveal a sight worse than her mum and dad. Jon Snow, carrying a load of Sainsbury bags.

“What?” she spluttered incoherently, acutely aware of just how messy and gross she looked.

“I had to hit the supermarket for myself, so I thought I’d grab some things for you, too.”

Warmth spread through her at his kind act.

“My hero!” she exclaimed.

And he truly was.


	47. Team Jess vs Team Logan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa argue over Gilmore Girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remembering that I once wrote Jon and Sansa discussing The 100 (chapter 14 of this collection), I decided to combine another one of my fandoms with them. So this is Jon x Sansa arguing over Team Jess v Team Logan

Sansa had just let herself in to Jon and Robb’s flat when she heard Jon shout, “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me!”

Eyebrows raised at her boyfriend’s irate tone, Sansa walked into the room. Jon was staring at the flat screen tv in disgust whilst Robb and Arya were watching him in amusement. Keen to know what all the commotion was about, Sansa turned to the TV to see… _Gilmore Girls_?!

“You’re watching Gilmore Girls?” she asked with considerable confusion.

Robb had always complained growing up when Sansa and Arya would take over the tv to watch the latest instalment of Gilmore Girls. Moaning about how the dialogue was too fast and it was too girly. However, he had never left the room when it was on, giving Sansa a sneaky feeling that he actually enjoyed it.

“Not anymore,” Jon muttered dramatically as he slumped back on the sofa with a pout.

“What’s up with you?”

“I can’t believe Rory,” he said. “Like what’s actually wrong with her?”

Not getting any answers out of that, Sansa turned towards her siblings. “Jon’s Team Jess,” Arya supplied helpfully. “It’s the Philadelphia episode. Jon got excited thinking that Jess and Rory were going to get back together.”

“Ew, you’re Team Jess?” Sansa asked wrinkling up her nose.

“Sansa’s Team Logan,” Arya interjected for Jon’s benefit.

“ _Of course_ you are,” Jon said disdainfully.

“Hey!” she objected, staring down her boyfriend. “What’s that meant to mean?”

“He’s rich and blond and supposedly charming. That’s what you dreamed of as a kid, right?”

“He’s not supposedly charming, he _is_ charming!”

“If you like condescending rich white boys,” Jon said bitingly.

“As opposed to rude and annoying bad boys who run across the country without saying a word,” she shot back. “Logan’s actually good for Rory. He comes from her world and is mature enough to handle an actual relationship.”

“That’s not fair. Jess was only seventeen and messed up. Now he’s older, he’s really sorted himself out. He’s perfect for Rory now.”

“Pfft. He doesn’t fit into Rory’s world. Logan does. Logan’s from old money too and is adored by Emily and Richard.”

“Yeah, their creepy wish to have blueblood Aryan babies isn’t a selling point.”

Sansa narrowed her eyes at Jon when Arya’s laughter broke across the living room.

“Are you two actually going to break up over a TV show? Besides, we all know the best boyfriend was Dave Rygalski so all both your arguments are invalid.”

Sansa shrugged, she couldn’t argue with that. Dave Rygalski had been the best. “You have a point.”

“Of course I do,” Arya said smugly.

Sansa rolled her eyes and sat down on the sofa next to Jon. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I guess I can forgive you for being Team Jess,” she said ruefully.

“You’re cute enough to get away with being Team Logan,” he replied, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her close into him.

“I liked Dean,” Robb piped up.

Sansa shared a horrified look with Jon. “Better Team Jess than Team Dean,” she declared.

“I’d take Logan over Dean any day,” Jon said, passing her the bowl of popcorn.

“Hey!” Robb objected. “He was nice. A perfect boyfriend.”

A hail of popcorn was thrown at Robb from all three other occupants.


	48. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa loves making Jon smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for @riahchan the prompt:“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” for Jon x Sansa?

“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” Sansa asked with a grin.

“You’ve seen me smile,” Jon replied grumpily.

“I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve seen you smile.”

Sansa probably shouldn’t feel as proud as she did for having made Jon smile, but she did. She didn’t think she’d _ever_ made him smile before. Only Arya had really had that pleasure before. Jon had been the most emo teenager ever and she’d never really had much time for her older brother’s best friend before.

But this was the first time she’d seen him since going off to college in King’s Landing and it was weird what a difference four years made. Now, she wanted nothing more than to see that slow grin of his and be the cause of it.

_Stop it_ , she told herself. _You cannot have a crush on Jon Snow._

Yet, she did.

He was so different to the boys she’d dated over the past couple of years in the best possible way. He wasn’t consumed with his own vanity or having the right pretty girl on his arm. He was a quiet calm presence in the room and she enjoyed how relaxed that made her. She could just be herself with him and not worry that he would mock her.

Starting to dance in a dorky way once more, Sansa said, “Come on Jon, come dance with me.”

He grinned again, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “Who’d have thought that the star of every Winter Town ballet production could dance so badly?”

“There’s lots of things I can do that you wouldn’t imagine,” Sansa said with a flirty look in his direction.

He gulped audibly and licked his lips. She shimmied her way across the room to him, their eyes remaining locked on each other as the teasing atmosphere gave way to something more heated.

However, before she made it to him, a plaintive cry came from the door.

“Mum! Dad! Sansa and Jon are flirting _again_!” Rickon yelled. “Make them stop!”


	49. While You Were Sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa finds someone unexpectedly in her bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for @greengableslover and @hiddencait who both requested: Is there any reason you're naked in my bed?"

Sansa rolled her eyes a little as she stepped over the passed out bodies in the living room and trod softly upstairs to her bedroom.

If there was one thing you could count on then it was for the Stark siblings to throw a wild party the moment their parents were away for the weekend. She should have been there too but had been held up at college thanks to creepy Professor Baelish creating a problem with her latest paper. He had offered to take her out to dinner to talk about the issues inherent in her academic writing and she’d ended up having to take the matter to the Dean. It wasn't the first time he’d done this and she was fed up. She wasn’t a naive Freshman anymore and knew exactly what Professor Baelish wanted to ‘discuss’.

However, that ordeal was finally over and she was back home for the holidays and looking forward to relaxing in the safety of her home and family.

Dragging her suitcase behind, she looked forward to a relaxing shower and a nap before helping tackle the mess of their home. However, when she opened her door and slumped down on her bed, she connected with a lump under the covers. Jumping up again with a small shriek, she pulled the duvet back to reveal a very naked Jon Snow snoring in her bed.

Unable to help herself, Sansa stood still and drank in the sight in front of her. He was built; all washboard abs and bulging biceps and she couldn’t help but appreciate how good he looked. She wouldn’t have thought all his flannel was hiding this away if she hadn’t seen him stripped down and swimming in the lake last summer. Ever since then, she’d had one or two steamy and unforeseen dreams about Jon Snow. Ones that she wouldn’t admit to anyone under any circumstances.

Strategically pulling the covers back over the lower part of his body, she poked him in the shoulder to wake him up and gain possession of her bed once more. She didn’t want to think about just why he was sleeping naked in her bed in the first place. It came uncomfortably close to those dreams that she refused to think about too hard.

Poking made no difference to the deep sleeping man in her bed, so Sansa resorted to trying to shake him awake. His skin and warm and soft under her skin, like satin stretched over muscle and she couldn’t help but brush her fingers gently over his collarbone and down his shoulders before gripping and trying to wake him up.

“Jon!” she hissed shaking him again, but there was no answer.

Honestly, she was too tired for this. She had travelled overnight on boat from Gulltown to White Harbour and then the train from White Harbour to Winterfell and she was shattered, wanting nothing more than to curl up under the covers and sleep in her own bed.

Shrugging her shoulders, Sansa decided to do just that. If Jon had decided to pass out in her bed (why had he decided to sleep in her bed?!), then he was going to have to deal with the consequences - namely her sleeping in the bed, too.

Going into the ensuite bathroom, Sansa took a quick shower, pulled on her pyjamas and climbed wearily into bed, dragging some of the covers off Jon and onto her. Closing her eyes, she tried not to focus on the very naked and very attractive man occupying the other side of her bed.

\-----------

It was the tensing of the arm that woke her a couple of hours later. It squeezed around her, tugging her back against a warm chest and then stilled. In fact, the whole body behind her radiated taut tenseness that pulled her out of her cosy sleep and dragged her unwillingly towards wakefulness.

It was then that her mind caught up with her body and remembered exactly who she was in bed with. A very naked Jon Snow.

Sansa could be embarrassed and quickly pull out of his arms, not look his way and disappear into the bathroom; giving him some time to a) find his clothes and b) make a quick exit from her room if he wanted. But instead, the mischievous side of her that had been so quiet all semester because she’d been concentrating on studying, came out.

Stretching lazily, she turned over to face a very confused looking Jon.

“Good morning,” she said, leaning up to peck him on the nose. “Did you sleep well?”

The puzzled look didn’t disappear, if anything it deepened. His eyes looked as if they were going to bulge out of his head, too.

“Er...yeah, I slept well,” he managed to choke out after a few aborted attempts. “I didn’t realise you were home.”

Putting on her best Reach accent, she widened her eyes and melodramatically declared, “Why, Jon Snow, how could you toy with a girl’s affections so and after last night to?”

“What...toy…what...I don’t...what?”

Part of her wanted to continue messing with his mind but he looked so panicked that she took pity and burst out laughing instead. “Relax! Nothing happened. I came home to find you asleep in my bed and you refused to wake up and I was too tired to do anything about it.”

“Oh,” he said with some relief.

“Why are you sleeping - naked - in my bed, by the way?”

“I...I…” he sputtered before taking a deep breath, giving her a strange look that she struggled to decipher. “I was disappointed that you weren’t here. It didn’t feel like a Stark house party without you.”

“So you decided to sleep in my bed.”

His cheeks reddened at her words and he looked away from her eyes bashfully, his fingers picking at the duvet. “I don’t remember making that decision but it’s probably because I missed you and Alys Karstark kept trying to make a move on me and all I could think was that I didn’t want Aly. I wanted you.”

It took her mind a moment to fully digest those words but when they did warmth seeped through her chest and the giddy feeling of having a hopeless crush confirm they share your feelings washed through her and left her grinning. “Jon Snow, are you saying what I think you are saying?”

Jon looked back up and her with a sheepish expression, “I’ve liked you for a while now, Sansa, but there’s never been a good time to tell you...or ask you out.”

“Depending on how the clean up goes today, you could always take me out for dinner tonight.”

He looked awed then. “You would go out with me.”

“Yep,” she said perkily, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. “I’ve seen what you’re hiding under that flannel, Jon Snow, and it’s pretty impressive.”

 


	50. Scare the Monsters Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's only attending the Stark horror night because he's now Sansa's boyfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for @soapyturner for the prompt: it's Jon NOT Sansa that's scared of scary movies

“You don’t have to do this, you know?” Sansa whispered as Jon sat down on the sofa next to her with a big bowl of popcorn.

The Stark Halloween horror movie night was one of the biggest nights in the Stark family calendar. All of the Stark kids would put on their favourite and the scariest horror films they could find and proceed to stay up all night and watch them. Jon had attended them once or twice, when they were younger, but it was well known that Jon didn’t like horror films, that blood and gore made him feel weak and sick while paranormal activity would leave him pale and shaking.

When they had been kids, Sansa had scoffed a little at this. Finding it yet another reason why Jon was so lame. She didn’t get just why Robb and Arya liked him so much. The weird kid next door who more often than not spent his days and nights with them because his mom worked so much and his dad wasn’t on the scene. When Robb had struck up a friendship with him, Ned Stark had used it as an excuse to invite him over for dinner – worried as only Ned Stark could be about the skinny and wan kid who seemed to be home alone more often than not. Soon, those dinners had turned into him occupying Robb’s empty bottom bunk and all but living with them. Sansa had been the one Stark kid who turned her nose up at his presence, unsure just why they had to take in a random stray.

Yet, that had all changed the year she’d returned from college, quieter and more subdued after her time away in the south and with a bigger appreciation for some of the more simple things of her Northern hometown.

One of those things had been Jon. The sullen kid next door had turned into a rugged and handsome firefighter who caused her heart to pound heavily in her chest when he turned his slow smile in her direction or rolled his flannel shirts up so his biceps looked huge.

Slowly, over the summer, they’d become closer and closer until one day they’d started dating, which had led to this moment. Jon attending the Stark Halloween horror night as her boyfriend, which had led to bemusement and laughter from the rest of the Starks.

“Aww ickle Jon is here,” Theon said mockingly as he came in with a stack of pizzas.

Jon glared his way but Sansa put her hand on his thigh and squeezed comfortingly. There was no point letting Theon rile him up, it would do nothing but embolden the asshole.  

However, that didn’t mean that Sansa didn’t have some ammunition she could use against Theon. “Don’t make me bring up what I walked in on the other day,” she said in a sickeningly sweet tone.

Theon paled and Arya looked confused while Robb’s mouth thinned. “If you did anything dodgy in front of my sister, Greyjoy, I’ll personally rip your guts out.”

Sansa enjoyed watching Robb stare a squirming Theon down before she put both of them out of their misery. “It wasn’t anything like _that_ ,” she said. “Just Theon cries when watching 27 Dresses Later.”

Arya, Bran and Rickon all burst out into laughter at that and Sansa smiled smugly as she watched the colour pour into Theon’s cheeks.

“Don’t you feel bad about having your girlfriend have to jump in to save you?” Theon said, a little sneeringly.

“Nope,” Jon said confidently. “She does it so much better than I could.”

“I’ve got your back, babe,” she said, as Bran called for quiet and asked Rickon to turn off the lights as they started the first film of the night.

“I know,” Jon murmured into her ear. “It’s the only reason I’m here tonight. I know you’ll scare the monster away for me.”

She grinned and leaned over to kiss his cheek.


	51. Sexy Skyscraper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dressing up as Tahani opens an option Sansa didn't think would come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for @strix's prompt: can you write one based on a quote from The Good Place: “I’ll miss you too, you sexy skyscraper.” ??
> 
> I kind of changed the quote to fit my dialogue but I hope you still like!

The Stark kids loved to do a proper family dress up theme for Halloween and this year was no different. _The Good Place_ was currently a favourite in the Stark household. They would all sit and watch it together, enjoying the weird wackiness in all it’s glory. So it hadn’t been a difficult decision to decide what to dress up as. They would go as Team Cockroach and there hadn’t even been any arguments about who got to be whom.

The only argument had come from Robb’s insistence that Theon be allowed to join in with them this year. Sansa and Arya had both rolled their eyes but shrugged their shoulders and capitulated. This year it would be the Stark kids + Theon and, to be honest, the role of dirtbag demon Trevor was a good fit for Theon.

Sansa, of course, would be Tahani and she loved that she got to wear one of her pretty dresses for Halloween this year. Arya was Eleanor with Bran as Chidi and Rickon as Jason, which he loved especially once Arya had persuaded her friend Shireen Baratheon (no one complained especially as they already had to deal with Theon) to come as Janet and Rickon had the biggest crush on Shireen. Robb was rounding them out as Michael complete with condescension and bow tie.

“Nice costume,” Jon said, having fought his way through the crush in the Tyrells’ basement to reach her.

“Thanks,” she said with a sweet smile. Part of the reason why she had been so eager to agree to dress up as Team Cockroach was that she would get to look really pretty for her last glimpse of Jon for the next year. An internship abroad had seemed like a really good idea before summer, but then Jon had returned home after working with his father’s family for a couple of years and they had embarked on a flirtation that had never quiet developed into anything more with the awareness that Sansa would be going away really soon.

“So you excited to be jetting off to a high powered fashion internship in Milan?” he asked with a small smile.

“I am,” she said a little hesitantly.

Jon frowned a little and said, “But?”

The question gave her the option of confessing her feelings for him – emotions that she had never sought out, but had snuck up on her unexpectedly and they felt all the deeper for that reason. Jon wasn’t someone she had ever thought to fall in love with, but somehow she had and now she was going away for a year.

“I’m going to miss everyone,” she said, before drawing in a deep breath and adding in a meaningful tone, “I’m going to miss you.”

With an intense look, he moved closer to her until she could feel the heat radiating off his firm chest. “Who said I wasn’t planning on coming out to visit.”

“You are?”

“My aunt lives in Milan so I have an excuse to fly out. She’s invited me out for Christmas. I think she got fed up of my never ending hints about how I wanted to come as the girl I like was going to be there for the next year.”

A grin spread across her face at his words. He liked her and, at the anticipation of seeing him in a couple of months’ time, the lingering dread that had knotted her stomach up at the prospect of returning and finding that Jon had moved on disappeared.

“I like you, too,” she said, stepping an inch closer, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head on top of his curls.

“I’ll still miss you over the next few months, you sexy skyscraper.”

She giggled and leaned down to kiss him.


End file.
